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DELILAH  OF  THE  SNOWS 


DELILAH  of 
15he     SNOWS 

By]  HAKOLD  BINDLOSS 

Author  of  **  Alton  of  Somasco,"  "  The  Cattle-Baron's 
Daughter,"  "  The  Dust  of  Conflict,"  "  Winston  of  the 
Prairie,"  "For  Jacinta,"  "  The  Young  Traders,"  etc. 


ec£ 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  right 8  reserved 
May,  1908 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    Ingleby  Feels  the  Bit 1 

II    Ingleby  Stands  by  His  Opinions 11 

III  Oonfijcting  Claims 21 

IV  Leger's  Responsibility 34 

V    The  New  Country 44 

VI    Hall  Sewbll 55 

VII    Hetty  Bears  the  Cost 64 

VIII    On  the  Trail 74 

IX    Hetty  Finds  a  Way 84 

X    Unrest 95 

XI    Ingleby  Ventures  a  Remonstrance 107 

XII    The  Major's  Bear 117 

XIII  Esmond  Acquires  Information 129 

XIV  The  Necessary  Incentive 139 

XV    Ingleby  Strikes  it  Rich 147 

XVI    An  Invalid  Record 157 

XVII    Trooper  Probyn's  Misadventure 167 

XVIII    Ingleby  Goes  Away 177 

XIX    Trooper  Probyn  Comes  Back 189 

XX    Accessories 199 

XXI    A  Doubtful  Exchange 210 

v 


1523777 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAOB 

XXII    Alison's  Sault 220 

XXIII  Ingleby  Loses  His  Head 231 

XXIV  The  Unexpected  Happens 241 

XXV   Tomlinson  Gets  Away t 251 

XXVI    The  Obvious  Thing 261 

XXVII    The  Blockade 273 

XXVIII    Snowed  In 283 

XXIX    Esmond's  Hands  are  Tied 295 

XXX    Sewell's  Downfall 305 

XXXI    Broken  Idols 316 

XXXII    His  Appointed  Station 328 


DELILAH  OF  THE  SNOWS 


Delilah  of  the  Snows 


ItfGLEBY  FEELS  THE  BIT 

HP  HE  tennis  match  was  over,  and  Walter  Ingleby  stood 
swinging  his  racket  impatiently  beside  an  opening  in 
the  hazel  hedge  that  overhung  the  lane.  Wisps  of  hay  were 
strewn  about  it,  but  already  the  nut  bushes  were  sprinkled 
with  the  honeysuckle's  flowers.  Beyond  the  hedge,  corn- 
fields blotched  with  poppies,  and  cropped  meadows,  faded 
into  the  cold  blueness  of  the  east. 

Ingleby  looked  out  upon  the  prospect  with  a  slight  hard- 
ening of  his  face,  for  he  loved  the  quiet,  green  country  in 
which  there  was  apparently  no  room  for  him;  but  a  little 
thrill  of  expectancy  ran  through  him  as  he  glanced  back 
across  the  stile  towards  the  little  white  village  he  had  left 
a  few  minutes  earlier.  A  broad  meadow  shining  with  the 
tender  green  of  the  aftermath  divided  it  from  the  lane,  and 
light  laughter  and  a  murmur  of  voices  came  faintly  across 
the  grass.  Again  a  trace  of  grimness,  which  seemed  out 
of  place  there,  crept  into  his  face,  and  it  was  with  a  little 
resolute  movement  of  his  shoulders  that  he  turned  and 
raised  his  eyes  to  the  dim  blue  ridge  behind  which  burned 
the  sunset's  smoky  red.  He  vaguely  felt  that  it  was  porten- 
tous and  emblematical,  for  that  evening  the  brightness  of 
the  West  seemed  to  beckon  him. 


%  DELILAH  OF   THE   SNOWS 

He  had  graciously  been  permitted  to  play  for  a  somewhat 
exclusive  club  during  the  afternoon,  as  well  as  to  make  him- 
self useful  handing  round  tea  and  carrying  chairs,  because 
he  played  tennis  well,  and  the  president's  wife  bad  said 
that  while  there  was  a  risk  in  admitting  that  kind  of  peo- 
ple, young  Ingleby  evidently  knew  his  place,  and  was  seldom 
guilty  of  presumption.  This  was  true,  for  Ingleby  was 
shrewd  enough  to  realize  that  there  were  limits  to  tbe 
toleration  extended  him,  though  the  worthy  lady  would 
probably  have  been  astonished  had  she  known  what  his  self- 
repression  occasionally  cost  him.  That  a  young  man  of  his 
position  should  not  esteem  it  a  privilege  to  teach  beginners 
and  submit  to  be  snubbed  by  any  one  of  importance  who 
happened  to  be  out  of  temper  had  never  occurred  to  her. 
Still,  he  certainly  knew  his  place,  and  having  played  well, 
to  please  himself  and  his  partner,  had  slipped  away  when 
the  last  game  was  over,  since  he  understood  that  the  compli- 
ments were  not  for  him. 

Suddenly  his  heart  beat-  a  trifle  faster  as  a  figure  ap- 
peared in  the  meadow.  It  was  a  girl  of  about  his  own  age, 
which  did  not  greatly  exceed  twenty,  who  carried  herself 
well,  and  moved,  it  seemed  to  him,  with  a  gracefulness  he 
had  never  noticed  in  any  other  woman.  She  wore  a  white 
hat  with  red  poppies  on  it,  and  he  noticed  that  the  flowers 
he  had  diffidently  offered  her  were  still  tucked  in  the  belt 
of  the  light  grey  dress.  She  was  walking  slowly,  and  ap- 
parently did  not  see  him  in  the  shadow,  so  that  when  she 
stopped  a  moment  with  her  hand  upon  the  stile  he  could, 
although  he  felt  the  presumption  of  it,  look  at  her  steadily. 

There  were  excuses  for  him,  since  any  one  with  artistic 
perceptions  would  have  admitted  that  Grace  Coulthurst 
made  a  sufficiently  attractive  picture  as  she  stood  with  the 
white  clover  at  her  feet  and  the  glow  of  the  West  upon  her 
face.  It  was  warm  in  colouring  and  almost  too  cleanly  cut, 
but  essentially  English,  with  a  suggestion  of  pride  and 
vigour  in  it.    The  eyes  were  grey,  and,  perhaps,  a  trifle  too 


INGLEBY  FEELS  THE  BIT  3 

grave  and  imperious  considering  her  age;  the  clustering 
hair  beneath  the  white  hat  shone  in  the  sunset  a  gleaming 
bronze.  She  was  also  very  dainty,  though  that  did  not 
detract  from  the  indefinite  something  in  the  pose  of  the 
shapely  head  and  figure  which  the  lad  vaguely  recognized 
as  patrician.  The  term  did  not  please  him.  Indeed,  it 
was  one  he  objected  to,  but  he  could  think  of  nothing  more 
appropriate,  and  as  he  watched  her  he  became  almost  aston- 
ished at  his  temerity.  Ingleby  was  young,  and  fancied  he 
knew  his  own  value,  but  he  was  also  acquainted  with  the 
unyielding  nature  of  social  distinction,  and  it  was  wholly 
respectful  homage  he  paid  Grace  Coulthurst.  She  was 
Major  Coulthursf  s  daughter,  and  a  young  woman  of  some 
local  importance.  When  she  saw  Ingleby  a  faint  tinge  of 
warmer  colour  crept  into  her  face  for  just  a  moment. 

He  swung  off  his  straw  hat,  and  held  it  at  his  knee  as  he 
raised  a  hand  to  her,  and  though  his  deference  was,  per- 
haps, a  trifle  overdone,  it  was  redeemed  by  its  genuineness, 
and  did  not  displease  her. 

"I  was  afraid  you  would  never  come,"  he  said. 

The  girl  descended  the  stile  before  she  looked  at  him, 
and  then  there  was  a  suggestion  of  stiffness  in  her  attitude, 
for  the  speech,  which  seemed  to  imply  something  of  the 
nature  of  an  appointment,  was  not  a  tactful  one. 

"Why  did  you  think  I  would  come  this  way  at  all?"  she 
said. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Ingleby,  with  a  trace  of  confusion. 
"Of  course,  there  wasn't  any  reason.  Still,  I  hoped  you 
would.    That  was  why  I  waited." 

Grace  Coulthurst  said  nothing  for  a  moment.  It  was, 
though  she  would  never  have  admitted  it,  not  altogether 
by  accident  that  she  had  met  and  walked  home  with  him 
somewhat  frequently  during  the  past  month. 

"  As  it  happened,  I  was  almost  going  round  by  the  road, 
with  Lilian  Fownes,"  she  said. 

Young  Ingleby,  as  she  did  not  fail  to  notice,  set  his  lips, 


4>  DELILAH  OF   THE    SNOWS 

for  Miss  Fownes  had  on  that  and  other  occasions  been  ac- 
companied by  her  accomplished  brother,  who  was  an  adept 
at  graceful  inanities. 

"Then  I  should  not  have  seen  you — and  I  especially 
wanted  to,"  he  said. 

His  voice  had  a  little  uncertain  note  in  it,  and  Grace 
glanced  at  him  sharply.  "In  that  ease,  why  did  you  run 
away  as  soon  as  the  game  was  over?" 

"Don't  you  know?"  and  Ingleby's  laugh  had  a  trace  of 
bitterness  in  it.  "When  it  is  over  they  don't  want  me.  Of 
course,  we  helped  them  to  win,  but  that  was  what  I  was 
there  for — that,  and  nothing  more — while  you  played  splen- 
didly.   You  see,  one  depends  so  much  upon  his  partner." 

"Does  he?" 

"Of  course !"  and  Ingleby  lost  his  head.  "Now — I  don't 
mean  at  tennis  only — I  could  do  almost  anything  with  you 
to  encourage  me.  Still,  that  is  evidently  out  of  the  ques- 
tion— like  the  rest." 

He  concluded  somewhat  incoherently,  for  he  realized  that 
this  was  going  too  far,  and  in  his  embarrassment  naturally 
made  matters  worse  by  the  attempted  qualification.  Still, 
though  the  girl's  colour  was  a  trifle  higher,  she  was  not 
altogether  displeased,  and  felt  that  there  was,  perhaps,  some 
excuse  for  his  confidence  as  she  glanced  at  him  covertly. 
Walter  Ingleby  was  not  remarkably  different  from  most 
other  young  Englishmen,  but  he  had  a  sturdy,  well  set-up 
figure,  and  an  expressive  and  by  no  means  unattractive 
face,  with  broad  forehead,  fearless  blue  eyes,  and  a  certain 
suggestive  firmness  of  his  mouth.  He  had  also  a  trick  of 
looking  at  one  steadily  with  his  head  held  well  erect,  and 
then  speaking  with  a  curious  clipped  curtness.  It  was  a 
trifling  mannerism  which  nevertheless  carried  with  it  a 
suggestion  of  vigour  and  straightforwardness.  Just  then 
there  was  a  little  scintillation  in  his  eyes,  and  he  looked 
like  one  who  had  at  least  the  courage  to  attempt  a  good 
deal. 


INGLEBY  FEELS  THE  BIT  5 

"Well,"  she  said,  in  a  non-committal  fashion,  "we  cer- 
tainly won  the  match,  and  I  think  you  were  wrong  to  slip 
away.  One  would  almost  fancy  that  you  are  unduly  sen- 
sitive now  and  then." 

Ingleby  laughed.  "Perhaps  I  am,  but  it  isn't  so  very 
astonishing  that  I  should  occasionally  resent  a  slight  that 
isn't  meant  when  there  are  so  many  of  them  that  certainly 
are.  No  doubt,  it's  my  own  fault.  I  should  have  known 
what  to  expect  when  I  crept  into  the  exclusive  tennis  club 
at  Holtcar." 

"Then  I  wonder  why  you  joined  it  at  all." 

"So  do  I  at  times.  Still,  I  wanted  to  see  what  people 
of  position  and  refinement  were  really  like,  and  to  learn 
anything  they  might  be  inclined  to  teach  me.  I  was  am- 
bitious, you  see — and  besides,  I  was  really  fond  of  the 
game." 

"And  you  were  disappointed  when  you  met  them?" 

Ingleby  made  a  little  expressive  gesture.  "Chiefly  in 
myself.  I  thought  I  was  strong  enough  not  to  mind  being 
treated  as  a  professional  and  politely  ignored  except  when 
I  was  useful.  Then  I  imagined  it  would  be  excellent  dis- 
cipline, and  discipline  is  presumably  good  for  one,  as  the 
worthy  vicar,  who  really  appears  to  have  ideas,  is  fond  of 
observing." 

Again  the  girl  glanced  at  him  sharply,  with  a  faint  but 
perceptible  arching  of  her  brows. 

"Isn't  that  a  trifle  patronizing?"  she  said.  "You  can't 
be  very  much  older  than  I  am,  and  he  has,  at  least,  seen  a 
good  deal  of  the  world." 

Ingleby  laughed  frankly,  though  there  was  a  little  flush 
in  his  face.  "  I  know  I  very  often  talk  like  a  fool — and  the 
difference  between  you  and  the  others  is  that  you  very  sel- 
dom think  it  necessary  to  remind  me  of  it.  That  is,  of 
course,  one  difference.    The  rest " 

"I  think,"  said  the  girl,  severely,  "we  were  talking  about 
the  vicar." 


6  DELILAH    OF  THE    SNOWS 

"Well,"  said  Ingleby,  "I  really  believe  he  means  well, 
but  he  is,  after  all,  part  of  the  system,  and  naturally  in- 
terested in  maintaining  the  existing  state  of  things.  We 
have  in  England  a  few  great  bolstered-up  professions,  one 
could  almost  call  them  professional  rings,  and  the  men 
fortunate  enough  to  enter  them  are  more  or  less  compelled 
to  play  into  one  another's  hands.  The  millions  who  don't 
belong  to  them  are,  of  course,  outsiders,  and  couldn't  be 
expected  to  count,  you  see." 

The  girl  stiffened  perceptibly,  and  really  looked  very 
patrician  as  she  turned  and  regarded  him  indignantly. 

"You  appear  to  forget  that  my  father  belongs  to  one  of 
those  professions,"  she  said. 

"He  did,"  corrected  Ingleby,  and  then  stopped  abruptly, 
as  he  remembered  it  was  reputed  that  it  was  not  exactly  by 
his  own  wish  Major  Coulthurst  no  longer  actively  served 
his  nation. 

"I  wonder  if  you  have  deliberately  made  up  your  mind 
to  offend  me?"  asked  Grace  Coulthurst  with  icy  quietness. 

"You  know  I  would  cut  my  hand  off  sooner  than  do  any- 
thing I  thought  would  vex  you,"  Ingleby  answered.  "I'm 
afraid  I  talk  too  much,  but  I  can't  help  it  now  and  then. 
There  are,  you  see,  so  few  people  who  will  listen  to  me 
seriously.  Unless  you  are  content  to  adopt  the  accepted 
point  of  view,  everybody  seems  to  think  it  his  duty  to  put 
his  foot  on  you." 

Grace's  anger  was  usually  short-lived,  for  she  had  a 
generous  nature  as  well  as  a  sense  of  humour,  and  the  lad's 
naive  admission  appealed  to  the  latter. 

"Well,"  she  said,  with  a  little  gleam  in  her  eyes,  "I 
really  think  I,  at  least,  have  listened  to  you  with  patience ; 
but  your  views  are  likely  to  lead  you  into  trouble.  Where 
did  you  get  them  ?" 

Ingleby  laughed.  "To  tell  the  truth,  I  often  wonder 
myself.  In  any  case,  it  wasn't  from  my  father.  He  was 
a  staunch  and  consistent  churchman,  and  kept  a  little  book 


INGLEBY  FEELS  THE  BIT  7 

shop.  You  can  see  it  in  the  High  Street  now.  He  sold 
books — and  papers  behind  the  counter;  I  would  like  you 
to  remember  this.  Still,  as  I  said,  he  was  consistent,  and 
there  was  literature  he  would  not  handle,  nor  when  they 
made  him  a  councillor  would  he  wink  at  certain  municipal 
jobbery.  The  latter  fact  was  duly  remembered  when  his 
lease  fell  in,  as  well  as  on  other  occasions,  and  when  he 
died,  when  I  was  fourteen,  there  was  nothing  left  for  me. 
He  was  a  scholar,  and  an  upright  man — as  well  as  a  Tory 
of  the  old  school  and  a  high  churchman." 

"Is  it  very  unusual  for  a  scholar  to  be  either  of  the  latter 
then?" 

"Well,"  said  Ingleby,  with  a  little  twinkle  in  his  eyes, 
"one  would  almost  fancy  that  it  ought  to  be.  However,  you 
can't  be  in  the  least  interested  in  these  fancies  of  mine. 
Shall  I  gather  you  that  spray  of  blossom  ?" 

Grace  looked  curiously  at  him  instead  of  at  the  pale- 
tinted  honeysuckle  whose  sweetness  hung  about  them.  She 
was  quite  aware  that  he  had  somewhat  eccentric  views,  and 
it  was  perhaps  his  originality  which-  had  attracted  her  when, 
prompted  chiefly  by  pity  for  the  lad  who  was  usually  left 
out  in  the  cold,  she  had  made  his  acquaintance;  but  her 
interest  in  him  had  increased  with  suspicious  rapidity  con- 
sidering that  it  was  only  a  month  or  two  since  she  had 
delicately  made  the  first  overtures.  She  was  quite  willing 
to  admit  that  she  had  made  them,  for  she  had  understood, 
and  under  the  circumstances  sympathized  with,  the  lad's 
original  irresponsiveness,  which  had  vanished  when  he  saw 
that  her  graciousness  sprang  from  a  kindly  nature  and  was 
unspoiled  by  condescension;  and  Grace  Coulthurst  could 
afford  to  do  what  other  young  women  of  her  age  at  Holtcar 
would  have  shrunk  from.  She  had  also  a  certain  quiet 
imperiousness  which  made  whatever  she  did  appear  fitting. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  an  inveterate  radical,"  she  said. 

"I  scarcely  think  that  goes  quite  far  enough,  as  radical- 
ism seems  to  be  understood  by  its  acknowledged  leaders. 


8  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Blatant  is  the  adjective  usually  hurled  at  us;  and  no  doubt 
I  deserve  it,  as  witness  what  you  have  endured  to-night. 
Still,  you  'see,  I  wasn't  talking  quite  without  a  purpose,  be- 
cause I  want  you  to  understand  my  attitude — and  that 
brings  me  to  the  point.  I'm  afraid  I  can't  play  with  you  at 
the  tournament,  as  was  arranged." 

"No?"  said  Grace,  a  trifle  sharply,  for  she  was  very 
human,  and  after  somewhat  daringly  showing  favour  to 
the  man  of  low  degree  it  was  a  trifle  galling  to  discover  that 
he  failed  to  appreciate  it.  "You  have,  presumably,  some- 
thing that  pleases  you  better  to  do  that  day  ?" 

Ingleby  turned  partly  away  from  her,  and  glanced  across 
the  valley.  "No,"  he  said  with  unusual  quietness,  "I  think 
you  know  that  could  not  be.    I  am,  in  fact,  going  away." 

Grace  was  a  trifle  startled,  as  well  as  more  concerned 
than  she  would  have  admitted,  and  had  Ingleby  been  look- 
ing at  her  he  might  have  seen  this.  It  had  not  been  exactly 
pleasant  to  hear  that  he  was  an  advanced  democrat,  for, 
while  by  no  means  unduly  conventional,  she  had  an  inborn 
respect  for  established  customs  and  procedure,  and  she  felt 
that  the  existing  condition  of  affairs,  while  probably  not 
beyond  improvement,  might  be  made  considerably  worse, 
at  least,  so  far  as  she  and  her  friends  were  concerned.  Still, 
it  was  disconcerting  to  find  that  he  was  going  away,  for 
there  would  then  be  no  opportunity  for  teaching  him — in- 
directly, of  course — the  erroneous  nature  of  his  views. 
This,  at  least,  was  the  reason  she  offered  herself. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  she  asked,  with  studied  in- 
difference. 

Ingleby  swung  around,  with  head  tilted  a  trifle  backwards 
— she  knew  that  unconscious  pose  and  the  little  gleam  in 
his  eyes  which  usually  accompanied  it — and  looked  across 
the  cool  blue-green  meadows  towards  the  fading  splendours 
of  the  West. 

"Out  there  where  men  are  equal,  as  they  were  made  to 
be,  and  the  new  lands  are  too  wide  for  the  cramped  opinions 


INGLEBY  FEELS  THE  BIT  9 

and  prejudices  that  crush  one  here !"  Then  he  turned  to 
the  girl  with  a  little  laugh.  "I  wish  you  would  say  some- 
thing quietly  stinging.  I  deserve  it  for  going  off  in  that 
way  again.    Still,  I  really  felt  it." 

"Do  you  think  I  could?"  and  Grace's  tone  was  severe. 

Inglehy  was  even  more  contrite  than  she  expected.  "It 
was  absurd  to  suggest  it.  You  could  never  say  an  unkind 
or  cutting  thing  to  anybody.  In  fact,  your  kindness  is  the 
one  pleasant  memory  I  shall  carry  away  with  me.  I — 
3'ou  see " 

He  pulled  himself  up  abruptly,  but  the  colour  was  in  his 
cheeks,  and  the  little  thrill  in  his  voice  again,  while  it 
seemed  only  natural  that  the  girl  should  smile  prettily. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  "if  one  might  ask  you  why  you  are 
going  ?" 

The  lane  was  growing  dusky  now,  and  Grace,  as  it  hap- 
pened, held  a  white  glove  and  a  fold  of  the  silvery  grey 
skirt  in  an  uncovered  hand,  for  the  dew  was  settling  heavily 
upon  the  grass  between  the  wheel  ruts.  Ingleby  did  not 
look  at  her. 

"I  don't  think  I  could  make  you  understand  how  sordid 
and  distasteful  my  life  here  is — and  it  can't  be  changed," 
he  said.  "Every  door  is  closed  against  the  man  with  neither 
friends  nor  money.  He  must  be  taught  his  place,  and  stay 
in  it,  dragging  out  his  life  in  hopeless  drudgery,  while 
I " 

He  stopped  again,  and  then  looked  his  companion  stead- 
ily in  the  face.  "I  have  found  out  in  the  last  month  how 
much  life  has  to  offer  one  who  has  the  courage  to  make  a 
bold  bid  for  what  he  is  entitled  to." 

"And  you  expect  to  make  it  out  there — which  presumably 
means  America  or  Canada?" 

They  had  reached  an  oaken  door  in  a  mossy  wall,  and 
Ingleby  stood  still.  "Yes,"  he  said,  slowly,  "I  intend  to 
make  it  there.  Life  holds  so  much — I  did  not  know  how 
much  a  little  while  ago — and  there  are  alluring  possi- 


10  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

bilities  if  one  has  the  courage  to  break  away  from  the 
groove  prejudice  and  tradition  force  him  into  here.  I  may 
never  see  you  again — unless  I  am  successful  I  think  I  never 
shall.  Would  it  be  a  very  great  presumption  if  I  asked  you 
for  something,  a  trifle,  to  carry  away  with  me?" 

He  stood  looking  down  upon  her  with  a  curious  wistful- 
ness  in  his  face,  and  Grace  afterwards  tried  to  believe  that 
it  was  by  accident  she  dropped  her  glove  just  then.  In  any 
case,  next  moment  young  Ingleby  stooped,  and  when  he 
straightened  himself  again  he  not  only  held  the  glove  exult- 
antly fast,  but  the  hand  she  had  stretched  out  for  it.  Then 
a  patch  of  vivid  crimson  showed  in  Grace  Coulthurst's 
cheek  as  they  stood  face  to  face  in  the  summer  twilight — 
the  lad  of  low  degree,  with  tingling  nerves  and  throbbing 
heart,  and  the  girl  of  station  rudely  shaken  out  of  her  ac- 
customed serenity.  In  those  few  moments  they  left  their 
youth  behind,  and  crossed  the  mystic  threshold  into  the 
ampler  life  of  man  and  woman. 

Then  Ingleby,  swinging  off  his  straw  hat,  let  the  little 
hand  go,  and  looked  at  the  girl  steadily. 

"If  that  was  wrong  you  will  have  a  long  while  in  which 
to  forgive  me,"  he  said.  "If  I  live  and  prosper  out  there 
I  will  bring  you  back  the  glove  again — and,  whatever  hap- 
pens, you  cannot  prevent  my  carrying  your  memory  away 
with  me." 

Then  he  turned  away,  looked  back,  still  bareheaded,  and 
with  a  little  resolute  shake  of  his  shoulders  swung  away 
down  the  darkening  lane,  while  Grace  inserted  a  key  in  the 
oaken  door  with  somewhat  unsteady  fingers.  She  was  as 
yet  neither  pleased  nor  angry,  but  bewildered,  and  only 
certain  that  he  had  gone,  and  her  face  was  burning  still. 


II 

INGLEBY  STANDS  BY  HIS  OPINIONS 

T  T  was  late  on  Saturday  night,  and  unpleasantly  hot  in 
the  little  dingy  room  where  Ingleby  sat  with  a  com- 
panion beneath  the  slates  of  a  tall,  four-story  house  in  a 
busy  cloth-making  town.  There  were  several  large  holes 
in  the  threadbare  carpet,  and  a  portion  of  the  horsehair 
stuffing  protruded  from  the  dilapidated  sofa,  while  the  rick- 
ety chairs  and  discoloured  cloth  on  the  table  were  equally 
suggestive  of  severe  economy.  A  very  plain  bookcase  hung 
on  the  wall,  and  the  condition  of  the  historical  works  and 
treatises  on  political  economy  it  contained  seemed  to  indi- 
cate that  they  had  been  purchased  secondhand;  while  an 
oil  lamp  burned  dimly  on  the  mantel,  for  the  room  was 
almost  intolerably  stuffy  already,  and  the  gas  supplied  at 
Hoddam  was  bad  and  dear.  A  confused  murmur  of  voices 
came  up  from  the  narrow  street  below,  with  the  clatter  of 
heavy  shoes  and  the  clamour  of  the  cheap-Jacks  in  the 
neighbouring  market  square. 

Ingleby,  who  had  taken  off  his  jacket,  lay  in  a  decrepit 
arm-chair  holding  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand.  Opposite 
him  sat  another  young  man  with  the  perspiration  beaded  on 
his  face,  which  was  sallow  and  somewhat  hollow.  He  was 
watching  Ingleby  with  a  faint  smile  in  his  eyes. 

"The  little  excursion  doesn't  seem  to  commend  itself  to 
you,"  he  said. 

"No,"  answered  Ingleby  drily,  "I  can't  say  it  does.  I 
had  looked  forward  to  spending  a  quiet  day  on  the  moors 
to-morrow.    It  will  in  all  probabilitv  be  the  last  Sunday  I 

11 


12  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

shall  ever  pass  in  this  country.  Besides,  considering  that 
I  don't  even  belong  to  the  Society,  this  notice  is  a  trifle 
peremptory.  Why  should  the  Committee  confidently  ex- 
pect my  co-operation  in  enforcing  the  right  of  way  through 
Willow  Dene?  I  certainly  did  not  tell  anybody  to  keep 
me  a  place  in  the  wagonette,  which  they  are  good  enough  to 
intimate  has  been  done." 

"Still,  after  that  speech  you  made  you  will  have  to  go. 
You're  in  sympathy  with  the  movement,  anyway?" 

Ingleby  made  a  little  impatient  gesture.  "I  don't  know 
what  came  over  me  that  night,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  Leger, 
I've  been  almost  sorry  I  got  up  ever  since.  It  was,  in  one 
way,  an  astonishing  piece  of  assurance,  and  I  can't  help  a 
fancy  that  most  of  those  who  heard  me  must  have  known 
a  good  deal  more  about  the  subject  than  I  did." 

"It's  not  altogether  improbable,"  and  his  companion 
laughed.  "In  fact,  twice  when  you  made  a  point  I  heard 
a  man  behind  me  quoting  your  authorities.  Still,  they 
didn't  expect  you  to  be  original." 

"  One  or  two  of  the  others  certainly  were ;  but  that's  not 
quite  the  question.  Of  course,  there  is  no  excuse  for  the 
closing  of  Willow  Dene,  but  driving  out  in  wagonettes  on 
Sunday  doesn't  quite  appeal  to  me.  It's  over  three  miles, 
too,  unfortunately.  One  has,  after  all,  to  consider  popular 
— prejudice — you  see." 

Leger  was  slight  of  physique  and  of  wholly  undistin- 
guished appearance,  as  well  as  shabbily  dressed;  but  there 
was  a  hint  of  rather  more  than  intelligence  in  his  sallow 
face,  and  he  had  expressive  brown  eyes.  A  little  twinkle 
crept  into  them  just  then. 

"I  can  remember  occasions  when  it  seemed  to  please  you 
to  fly  in  the  face  of  them,  but  your  thoroughness  isn't  alto- 
gether above  suspicion  now  and  then.  One  has  to  be  one 
thing  or  the  other." 

"You  know  my  opinions." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Leger  smiling.    "Most  of  your  acquaint- 


INGLEBY  STANDS  BY  HIS  OPINIONS      13 

ances  do.  It  would  be  a  little  astonishing  if  they  didn't. 
Still,  you  have  a  few  effete  aristocratic  notions  clinging 
about  you.  Why  shouldn't  we  drive  out  on  Sunday,  with 
the  traditional  crimson  neckties  and  clay  pipes  if  it  pleases 
us,  even  if  our  presence  is  no  great  improvement  to  the 
scenery,  when  it  ought  to  be  clear  that  we  can't  go  any 
other  day  ?  Besides,  what  is  a  man  of  your  opinions  doing 
with  those  luxuries  yonder?" 

He  pointed  to  Ingleby's  tennis  flannels  and  black  swim- 
ming costume  which  hung  behind  the  door.  Ingleby 
laughed. 

"Are  cleanliness  and  decency  quite  out  of  keeping  with 
democratic  views?  I'm  fond  of  swimming,  and  the  only 
place  where  I  can  get  into  the  river  now  is  the  big  pool 
beside  the  Thorndale  road.  It's  a  trifle  public  even  at 
seven  A.  M.,  but  my  landlady  objects  to  my  bathing  here, 
and  since  I  can't  afford  the  necessary  apparatus  I  don't 
blame  her.  She  says  it  brings  the  plaster  off  the  lower 
ceilings,  and  I  really  think  it  does." 

"  There  is  the  establishment  provided  by  a  beneficent 
municipality." 

"Where  they  charge  you  sixpence." 

Leger  nodded.  "Sixpence,"  he  said,  "is  certainly  a  con- 
sideration. Still,  there  are  days  on  which  one  can  obtain 
a  sufficiency  of  water  for  half  the  sum.  The  plunge  bath 
is,  I  believe,  forty  feet  long." 

"  It  is  the  quality  and  not  the  quantity  to  which  I  object." 

Leger  shook  his  head  reproachfully.  "I'm  afraid  those 
effete  prejudices  are  still  very  strong  in  you.  You  play 
tennis,  too.    How  much  does  that  cost  you?" 

"It's  a  question  I'm  not  going  to  answei,"  and  Ingleby 
flushed  hotly.  "Anyway,  I've  had  full  value  ior  the  money." 

Leger  smiled  in  a  curious  fashion  as  he  looked  at  him, 
but  he  changed  the  subject  and  pointed  to  the  pamphlet 
on  the  floor.  "What  do  you  think  of  the  new  apostle's 
speeches  ?" 


14  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

A  little  sparkle  crept  into  Ingleby's  eyes.  "They  are," 
he  said  slowly,  "almost  a  revelation.  Even  on  paper  one 
feels  the  passion  and  the  truth  in  them.  The  man's  a 
genius,  and  you  have  to  believe  in  him.  I  could  fancy  him 
doing  anything  he  liked  with  you  if  you  came  in  contact 
with  him." 

"It  is  not  quite  out  of  the  question.  It  was  an  Oregon 
paper  that  first  printed  what  he  had  to  say,  and  I  believe 
that  State  is  on  the  Pacific  slope  where  you  are  going.  You 
evidently  still  mean  to  go?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ingleby  shortly.  "What  chance  is  there  for 
me — or  any  of  us — here  ?" 

Leger  threw  up  the  window  and  looked  into  the  street. 
The  lights  of  a  big  gin  palace  flared  down  in  the  narrow 
gap,  and  a  stream  of  perspiring  humanity  flowed  along 
beneath  them,  slatternly  women,  and  men  with  flattened 
chests  and  shoulders  bent  by  unhealthy  toil,  jostling  one  an- 
other. The  garish  brilliancy  touched  their  pallid  faces,  and 
the  harsh  murmur  of  their  voices  came  up  hollowly  between 
the  tall  houses  with  the  reek  of  gas  fumes  and  other  con- 
fused odours.  There  were  many  poor  in  Hoddam,  and  in 
hot  weather  bargains  were  to  be  had  in  the  neighbouring 
market  at  that  hour;  while  trade  was  bad  just  then,  and  a 
little  lower  down  the  street  shadowy  figures  were  flitting 
into  a  pawnbroker's  door.  Leger's  face  grew  a  trifle  weary 
as  he  watched  them. 

"At  the  best  it  is  a  poor  one,"  he  said.  "One  feels  in- 
clined to  wonder  if — this — is  to  last  forever." 

"  If  s  too  big  a  question.  Give  it  up,  and  come  out  with 
me." 

"And  let  the  powers  that  be  have  it  all  their  own  way?" 
said  Leger. 

"I'm  afraid  neither  you  nor  I  can  prevent  them.  Be- 
sides, from  what  this  American  says,  there  seem  to  be 
people  with  grievances  out  yonder,  too.  A  good  many  of 
them,  in  fact.    I  expect  there  are  everywhere." 


INGLEBY  STANDS  BY  HIS  OPINIONS      15 

Leger  smiled.  "I  wonder,"  he  said,  "whether  that  has 
just  dawned  on  you.  Still,  I'm  not  so  strong  as  you  are — 
and  there's  Hetty.  You'll  have  to  go  alone,  but  you'll  leave 
at  least  two  people  behind  you  who  will  think  of  you 
often." 

He  stopped  abruptly,  for  there  was  a  patter  of  feet  on 
the  stairway,  and  Ingleby  rose  as  the  door  swung  open  and 
a  girl  came  in.  She  carried  a  basket,  and  appeared  a  trifle 
breathless,  for  the  stairs  were  steep,  but  her  dress  was 
tasteful,  and  most  men  would  have  admitted  that  she  was 
pretty.  She  took  the  chair  Ingleby  drew  out,  and  smiled 
at  him. 

"Do  you  know  that  the  people  downstairs  would  hardly 
let  me  in?"  she  said.  "You  seem  to  be  very  well  looked 
after,  but  I  knew  you  wouldn't  mind  me.  I've  come  for 
Tom." 

Ingleby  laughed,  but  it  was  a  trifle  uneasily,  for  he  was 
young,  and  by  no  means  the  girl's  equal  in  the  matter  of 
self-possession.  In  fact,  one  had  only  to  look  at  Hetty 
Leger  to  recognize  that  she  was  capable,  and  could  be,  on 
occasion,  a  trifle  daring,  for  there  was  courage  as  well  as 
cheerfulness  in  her  clear  blue  eyes,  which  met  one's  glance 
steadily  from  under  dark  and  unusually  straight  brows. 

"You  have  been  marketing?"  he  said. 

Hetty  nodded.  "Yes,"  she  answered.  "You  can,  if  you 
know  how  to  go  about  it,  get  provisions  cheap  after  ten 
o'clock  on  Saturday  night,  and  I  have  had  the  usual  diffi- 
culty in  making  ends  meet  this  week.  Wouldn't  it  be  a 
relief  to  iive  in  a  country  where  there  was  no  rent  to  pay 
and  you  take  a  spade  and  grow  what  you  want  to  eat  ?" 

"Ingleby's  going  where  they  do  something  of  that  kind, 
though  I  believe  they  now  and  then  dig  up  gold  and  silver, 
too,"  said  her  brother. 

Hetty,  for  no  ostensible  reason,  pulled  up  one  of  her 
little  cotton  gloves,  which  did  not  seem  to  need  it,  and 
then  looked  quietly  at  Ingleby. 


16  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Then  you  are  going  away?"  she  asked. 

Her  brother  nodded.  "Yes,"  he  said.  "To  the  Pacific 
slope  of  North  America.  He  was  just  suggesting  that  we 
should  come,  too." 

Hetty  sat  silent  for  several  moments. 

"Well?"  she  said  at  last. 

"I  told  him  it  couldn't  be  thought  of.  For  one  thing, 
it  would  cost  a  good  deal  of  money." 

Hetty  glanced  swiftly  at  Ingleby,  and  an  older  man 
might  have  noticed  the  suppressed  intentness  in  her  face. 

"I'm  afraid  Tom  is  right — though  I  wish  you  could 
come,"  he  said.  "When  I  mentioned  it  I  didn't  remember 
that  he  isn't  very  strong  and  that  it  must  be  a  very  rough 
country  for  an  Englishwoman.  You  wouldn't  care  to  live 
in  a  log  hut  forty  miles  from  anywhere,  Hetty?" 

The  girl  now  looked  straight  in  front  of  her.  "No,  I 
suppose  not;  but  as  I  shall  never  get  the  chance,  that 
doesn't  matter.  Well,  I  think  you  are  wise  to  go.  There 
are  already  more  of  us  here  than  there  seems  to  be  any  use 
for." 

Ingleby  almost  fancied  that  there  was  something  slightly 
unusual  in  her  voice ;  but  her  face  was  impassive,  and  she 
rose  with  a  little  smile. 

"It  is  getting  late,  Tom,"  she  said.  "You  are  both 
going  to  the  demonstration  to-morrow?" 

Ingleby  said  they  were,  and  Hetty  waited  a  moment, 
apparently  doing  something  to  her  hat,  when  her  brother, 
who  took  the  basket,  passed  out  of  the  room.  She  had  a 
pretty  figure,  and  the  pose  she  fell  into  with  one  rounded 
arm  raised  and  a  little  hand  busy  with  the  hatpin  was  not 
unbecoming.  She  was  also  on  excellent  terms  with  Ingleby, 
who  leaned  against  the  mantel  watching  her  until  she  shook 
the  hat  a  trifle  impatiently,  when  he  stepped  forward. 

"If  you  want  the  thing  put  straight,  let  me  try,"  he  said. 

Then,  to  his  astonishment,  the  hand  he  had  laid  upon  the 
hat  was  snatched  away,  and  next  moment  Hetty,  with  a 


INGLEBY  STANDS  BY  HIS  OPINIONS      17 

red  spot  in  her  cheek,  stood  at  least  a  yard  away  from  him. 
She  had  moved  so  quickly  that  he  was  not  quite  sure  how 
she  had  got  there. 

"Do  you  think  I  am  less  particular  than — any  one  else?" 

"No,"  answered  Ingleby  contritely,  with  a  trace  of  con- 
fusion. "Certainly  not.  I  would  never  have  offered,  only 
we  are  such  old  friends ;  and  I  think  that  when  you  brought 
that  hat  home  after  buying  it  you  let  me  put  it  on  for  you." 

Hetty's  face  was  still  a  trifle  flushed,  but  she  laughed. 
"That,"  she  said,  "was  a  long  time  ago;  but,  after  all,  we 
needn't  quarrel.  In  fact,  I  let  Tom  go  on  because  I  had 
something  to  ask  you." 

"Of  course,  anything  I  can  do " 

Hetty  smiled  sardonically.  "Oh,  yes,  I  know !  Still,  it's 
really  very  little — or  I  wouldn't  ask  you.  Just  to  look  after 
Tom  to-morrow.  Now,  he  has  in  most  ways  a  good  deal 
more  sense  than  you " 

"I  can  believe  it,"  said  Ingleby.  "It  really  isn't  very 
astonishing." 

"Still,  you  are  stronger  than  he  is,  and  he  hasn't  been 
very  well  since  he  took  up  the  night  work  at  the  mill.  If 
there  should  be  any  trouble  you  will  look  after  him  ?" 

Ingleby  promised;  and,  hearing  her  brother  reascending 
the  stairway,  the  girl  swiftly  flitted  out  of  the  room,  while 
Ingleby  sat  down  to  consider,  with  the  warmth  still  in  his 
face,  for  he  was  not  quite  pleased  with  himself,  and,  as  a 
natural  result,  a  trifle  vexed  with  Hetty.  It  was  true,  he 
admitted,  that  the  girl  had  made  a  somewhat  enticing 
picture  as  she  stood  with  face  partly  turned  from  him  and 
one  hand  raised  to  htr  head ;  but  it  was,  he  decided,  merely 
the  brotherly  kindness  he  had  always  felt  for  her  which  had 
prompted  his  offer,  and  it  was  unpleasant  to  feel  that  he 
had  done  anything  that  might  hurt  her  self-respect.  Still, 
he  could  not  understand  why  this  should  be  so,  since  she 
had  undoubtedly  permitted  him  to  put  the  hat  on  and 
admire  her  in  it  not  so  very  long  ago,  and  he  failed  to  dis- 


18  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

cover  any  reason  why  she  should,  in  the  meanwhile,  have 
grown  stricter  in  her  views  as  to  what  was  fitting.  Nor 
could  he  understand  her  question,  which  suggested  that  she 
considered  herself  entitled  to  at  least  as  much  deference  as 
a  person  she  preferred  not  to  name. 

Then,  remembering  that  most  young  women  were  sub- 
ject to  unaccountable  fancies  now  and  then,  he  dismissed 
the  matter  as  of  no  importance,  after  all,  and  once  more 
busied  himself  with  the  American's  speeches.  They  were 
certainly  stirring,  and  made  the  more  impression  because 
he  was  unacquainted  with  Western  hyperbole;  but  there 
was  in  them,  as  wiser  men  had  admitted,  the  ring  of 
genuine  feeling,  as  well  as  a  logical  vindication  of  demo- 
cratic aspirations.  Ingleby  was  young,  and  his  blood 
warmed  as  he  read ;  while  Hetty  Leger,  as  she  walked  home 
through  the  hot  streets  of  the  still  noisy  town  with  her 
brother,  was  for  once  curiously  silent,  and  almost  morose, 
though,  considering  the  life  she  led,  she  was  usually  a 
cheerful  girl. 

It  was  not  much  quieter  on  the  following  afternoon  when 
Ingleby,  who,  partly  as  a  protest  against  the  decrees  of 
conventionality,  wore  a  soft  cap  and  his  one  suit  of  light 
summer  tweed,  met  Leger  on  the  doorstep  of  the  Com- 
mittee rooms  of  a  certain  Society.  Several  big  wagonettes 
were  already  drawn  up,  and  men  with  pallid  faces  sat  in 
them,  neatly  attired  for  the  most  part,  though  somewhat  to 
Ingleby's  annoyance  several  of  them  smoked  clay  pipes  and 
wore  brilliant  neckties  and  hard  felt  hats.  He  was  quite 
aware  that  it  was  unreasonable  of  him  to  object  to  this,  but, 
nevertheless,  he  could  not  help  it.  They  were,  however, 
quiet  and  orderly  enough,  and  indulged  in  no  more  than 
good-humoured  badinage  with  the  crowd  that  had  as- 
sembled to  see  them  off;  but  Ingleby  felt  inclined  to  pro- 
test when  Leger  led  him  to  a  place  on  the  box-seat  of  the 
foremost  vehicle,  where  a  man  was  scattering  leaflets  among 
the  crowd. 


INGLEBY  STANDS  BY  HIS  OPINIONS      19 

"Couldn't  we  sit  anywhere  else?"  he  asked.  "It's  a  little 
conspicuous  here." 

Leger  shook  his  head.  "That  can't  be  helped,"  he  said. 
"It's  the  penalty  of  making  speeches.  You  are  considered 
one  of  the  stalwarts  now.  There's  no  use  in  objecting  to 
the  result  when  you  have  been  guilty  of  the  cause,  you 
know." 

"I'll  be  especially  careful  another  time,"  said  Ingleby, 
with  a  little  grimace.  "In  the  meanwhile  I'm  ready  to  do 
anything  you  can  reasonably  expect  of  me." 

Then  there  was  a  cracking  of  whips  and  a  rattle  of 
wheels,  and  the  discordant  notes  of  a  cornet  broke  through 
the  semi-ironical  cheer;  and,  as  they  rolled  across  the  river, 
which,  foul  with  the  refuse  of  tanneries  and  dye-works, 
crept  out  of  the  close-packed  town,  a  man  who  sat  on  the 
bridge  waved  his  hat  to  the  leading  driver. 

"Take  them  straight  to  the  lock-up,  Jim,"  he  said.  "It 
will  save  everybody  trouble,  and  what's  the  U3e  of  going 
round  ?" 

Then  they  wound  through  dusky  woods  out  of  the  hot 
valley,  and  down  the  long  white  road  across  a  sun-baked 
moor,  where  the  dust  whirled  behind  them  in  a  rolling 
cloud.  However,  the  men  in  the  foremost  vehicle  got  little 
of  it,  and  Ingleby  felt  that  the  drive  would  have  been  pleas- 
ant in  different  circumstances,  as  he  watched  the  blue  hills 
that  rose  in  the  dazzling  distance,  blurred  with  heat.  Only 
one  white  fleecy  cloud  flecked  the  sweep  of  cerulean,  and  the 
empty  moor  lay  still  under  the  drowsy  silence  of  the  Sun- 
day afternoon.  It  seemed  to  him  most  unfitting  that  the 
harsh  voices  of  his  companions,  the  clatter  of  hoofs,  and 
the  doleful  tooting  of  the  cornet,  should  jar  upon  it.  Then 
as  they  dipped  into  a  hollow  they  came  upon  other  trav- 
ellers, all  heading  in  the  same  direction,  who  hurled  some- 
what pointed  jests  at  them  as  they  passed;  but  these  did 
not  exactly  resemble  the  men  in  the  wagonettes.  Their 
attire  was  by  no  means  neat,  and  they  had  not  in  the  least 


20  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

the  appearance  of  men  about  to  discharge  a  duty,  while 
several  of  them  carried  heavy  sticks. 

"I  wonder  what  they  mean  to  do  with  those  bludgeons," 
said  Ingleby  a  trifle  uneasily. 

Leger  laughed.  "I  have  no  doubt  they  would  come  in 
handy  for  killing  pheasants.  There  are,  I  believe,  a  good 
many  young  ones  down  in  the  Dene.  Of  course,  the  Com- 
mittee could  very  well  dispense  with  the  company  of  those 
fellows,  but  we  can't  prevent  any  man  from  asserting  his 
rights  as  a  Briton." 

"That,"  said  Ingleby,  grimly,  "is  in  one  respect  almost 
a  pity.  The  difficulty  is  that  somebody  will  get  the  credit 
of  our  friends'  doings." 

"Of  course!"  and  Leger  laughed  again.  "You  can't  be 
a  reformer  for  nothing;  you  have  to  take  the  rough  with 
the  smooth — though  there  is,  as  a  rule,  verv  little  of  the 
latter." 

Ingleby  said  nothing  further ;  but  it  dawned  on  him,  as  it 
had,  indeed,  done  once  or  twice  before,  that  even  a  defec- 
tive system  of  preserving  peace  and  order  might  be  prefer- 
able to  none  at  all.  Still,  he  naturally  would  not  admit  his 
misgivings,  and  said  nothing  until  the  wagonettes  rolled 
into  a  little  white  village  gay  with  flowers  and  girt  about 
by  towering  beeches.  The  windows  of  an  old  grey  house 
caught  the  sunlight  and  flashed  among  the  trees,  and,  as 
the  vehicles  drew  up,  a  trim  groom  on  a  splendid  horse 
swept  out  through  the  gate  of  a  clematis-covered  lodge. 

Then  there  was  a  hoarse  cheer  from  a  group  of  dilapi- 
dated and  dusty  loungers  as  the  men  swung  themselves 
down  outside  the  black-beamed  hostelry  which  bore  a  coat- 
of-arms  above  its  portal.  They  were  unusually  quiet,  and 
Leger,  who  glanced  at  them,  touched  Ingleby's  shoulder. 

"They'll  do  their  work,"  he  said.  "Still,  I  fancy  we  are 
expected,  and  I'm  not  sure  that  I'd  be  sorry  if  we  had  the 
thing  done,  and  were  driving  home  again." 


Ill 

CONFLICTING  CLAIMS 

TpHE  sunlight  beat  down  fiercely  on  the  shaven  grass, 
and  a  drowsy  hum  of  bees  stole  through  the  stillness 
of  the  Sunday  afternoon  when  Grace  Coulthurst  and  Geof- 
frey Esmond  strolled  across  the  lawn  at  Holtcar  Grange. 
There  were  at  least  two  acres  of  it,  flanked  by  dusky  firs  and 
relieved  on  two  sides  by  patches  of  graduated  colour,  while 
on  the  third  side  one  looked  out  towards  the  blue  hills  across 
the  deep  hollow  of  Willow  Dene  into  which  the  beech  woods 
rolled  down.  A  low  wall,  along  which  great  urns  of  scarlet 
geraniums  were  set,  cut  off  the  lawn  from  the  edge  of  the 
descent,  and  Grace,  seating  herself  on  the  broad  coping, 
glanced  down  into  the  cool  shadow,  out  of  which  the  sound 
of  running  water  came  up. 

"It  really  looks  very  enticing  on  a  day  like  this.  Don't 
you  think  it  is  a  little  hard  on  the  Hoddam  people  to  shut 
them  out  of  it?"  she  said. 

Her  companion,  who  leaned,  with  his  straw  hat  tilted 
back,  against  one  of  the  flower-filled  urns,  smiled  as  he 
glanced  down  at  her.  He  was  a  young  man  of  slender, 
wily  frame,  with  an  air  of  graceful  languidness  which 
usually  sat  well  upon  him,  though  there  were  occasions  on 
which  it  was  not  readily  distinguished  from  well-bred  in- 
solence. 

"I  suppose  it  is,  but  they  brought  it  upon  themselves," 
he  said.  "Nobody  would  mind  their  walking  quietly 
through  the  Dene,  even  if  they  did  leave  their  sandwich 
papers  and  their  bottles  behind  them." 

21 


22  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

"I  have  seen  wire  baskets  provided  in  such  places,"  said 
Grace. 

The  young  owner  of  Holtcar  Grange  laughed.  "  So  have 
I.  In  fact,  I  tried  it  here,  and  put  up  a  very  civil  notice 
pointing  out  what  they  were  for.  The  Hoddam  people, 
however,  evidently  considered  it  an  unwarrantable  inter- 
ference with  their  sacred  right  to  make  as  much  mess  of 
another  person's  property  as  they  pleased,  for  soon  after 
the  baskets  arrived  we  found  that  somebody  had  taken  the 
trouble  to  collect  them  and  deposit  them  in  the  lake." 

"A  gardener  could,  however,  pick  up  a  good  many  papers 
in  an  afternoon." 

"It  would  naturally  depend  upon  how  hard  he  worked, 
and,  as  you  may  have  noticed,  undue  activity  is  not  a 
characteristic  of  anybody  at  the  Grange.  Still,  it  would  be 
several  years  before  he  made  a  young  holly  from  which  the 
leading  stem  had  been  cut  out  grow  again;  besides  which 
the  proletariat  apparently  consider  themselves  entitled  to 
dig  up  the  primroses  and  daffodils  by  basketfuls  with 
spades." 

Grace  was  not  greatly  interested  in  the  subject,  but  it 
at  least  was  safe,  and  Geoffrey  Esmond's  conversation  had 
hitherto  taken  a  rather  more  personal  turn  than  she  cared 
about. 

"Still,  you  could  spare  them  a  few  wild  flowers,"  she  said. 

She  turned  and  glanced  across  the  velvet  lawn  towards 
the  old  grey  house  flanked  by  its  ancient  trees.  The  sun- 
light lay  bright  upon  its  time-mellowed  fagade.  and  was 
flung  back  from  the  half-hidden  orchid  houses  and  vineries. 
Esmond  apparently  understood  her,  and  for  a  moment  his 
eyes  rested  curiously  upon  her  face. 

"You  mean  I  have  rather  more  than  my  share  of  what 
most  people  long  for?  Still,  you  ought  to  know  that  no- 
body is  ever  quite  content,  and  that  what  one  has  only  sets 
one  wishing  for  more." 

Grace  laughed.     "One  would  certainly  fancy  that  you 


CONFLICTING  CLAIMS  23 

had  quite  enough  already — but  I  wonder  if  one  might  ask 
you  if  you  have  heard  from  Keggie  lately?" 

Esmond's  face  hardened  a  trifle.  "You,  at  least,  might. 
He  does  not  write  often — naturally — though  I  always  had 
a  fancy  that  Reggie  mightn't,  after  all,  have  been  so  very 
much  to  blame  as  most  people  seem  to  think.  Anyway, 
we  had  a  letter  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  he  had  got  his  com- 
mission in  the  Canadian  mounted  police.  He  ought  to  be 
thankful — in  the  circumstances." 

"I  am  pleased  to  hear  it,"  and  a  just  perceptible  trace  of 
colour  showed  in  Grace's  cheeks.  "It  is  rather  a  coinci- 
dence that  my  father,  who  went  up  to  London  a  week  ago, 
came  back  with  the  expectation  of  obtaining  a  Government 
post  in  Western  Canada,  a  Crown  Commissioner  on  the  new 
gold-fields  I  think.  He  was  in  charge  of  a  mining  district 
in  Western  Africa,  you  know.  I  should  probably  go  to 
Canada  with  him." 

"Then  one  would  sincerely  hope  that  Major  Coulthurst 
will  get  a  post  at  home." 

He  stopped,  perhaps  warned  by  something  in  his  com- 
panion's attitude,  and  she  deftly  turned  the  subject  back 
to  the  grievance  the  Hoddam  people  thought  they  had 
against  him.  The  fact  that  they  had  apparently  a  good 
deal  to  say  to  each  other  had  in  the  meanwhile  not  escaped 
attention.  A  few  lounge  chairs  had  been  laid  out  about  a 
little  table  in  the  shadow  of  a  big  chestnut,  and  from  one 
of  them  a  lady  of  some  importance  in  that  vicinity  watched 
the  pair  with  distinct  disapprobation.  Holtcar  Grange  was 
but  a  portion  of  young  Esmond's  inheritance,  and  she  had 
several  daughters  of  her  own.  She  frowned  as  she  turned 
to  the  lady  nearest  her. 

"That  girl,"  she  said  acidly,  "is  making  excellent  use 
of  her  opportunities.  It  does  not  appear  to  matter  which 
one  it  is,  so  long  as  he  belongs  to  the  family." 

Her  companion  looked  up  languidly.  "The  drift  of  that 
last  remark  is  not  especially  plain." 


24  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"It  would  have  been  if  you  had  seen  what  w^nt  on  before 
Keggie  Esmond  went,  or  rather  was  sent,  out  to  Canada. 
The  major  was  in  Africa  then,  and  the  girl  was  staying  here. 
She  was  only  just  out  of  the  schoolroom,  but  that  did  not 
prevent  her  attaching  herself  to  Eeggie.  It  was  only  when 
he  was  no  longer  worth  powder  and  shot  that  she  turned  her 
attention  to  his  cousin." 

This,  as  it  happened,  was  very  little  nearer  the  truth 
than  such  statements  usually  are,  when  made  by  a  matron 
who  has  an  unappreciated  daughter's  future  to  provide  for; 
but  the  lady  who  heard  it  understood  the  reason  for  her 
companion's  rancour. 

"Grace  Coulthurst,"  she  said,  "is  pretty,  and  has  really 
an  excellent  style.  Besides,  her  father  evidently  has  means 
of  his  own." 

The  first  speaker  smiled  compassionately.  "Major  Coul- 
thurst thrives  upon  his  debts;  he  threw  away  what  little 
money  he  had  in  speculation.  Then  he  got  himself  sent 
out  to  West  Africa,  and  either  allowed  the  niggers  too  much 
of  their  own  way  or  worried  them  unnecessarily,  for  they 
turned  out  and  killed  some  of  their  neighbours  who  worked 
at  the  mines.  That  resulted  in  black  troops  being  sent  up, 
and  Coulthurst,  who  led  them  into  a  swamp  they  couldn't 
get  across,  was  afterwards  quietly  placed  upon  the  shelf. 
In  fact,  I  believe  he  pins  his  hopes  upon  the  men  appointed 
by  the  new  Government  remembering  their  unfortunate 
friends." 

"That,"  remarked  her  companion  drily,  "is,  after  all, 
what  a  good  many  of  us  seem  to  think  the  Government  is 
there  for." 

She  might  have  said  more,  but  a  little,  black-robed  lady 
and  a  burly  red-faced  man  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eyes 
and  a  tinge  of  grey  in  his  hair,  appeared  just  then.  The 
latter  held  himself  well,  and  did  not  in  the  least  look  like  a 
man  who  had  borne  much  responsibility  in  pestilential 
Africa.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  Major  Coulthurst,  who  was 


CONFLICTING  CLAIMS  25 

by  no  means  brilliant  either  as  administrator  or  soldier, 
took  his  cares  lightly. 

"And  you  fancy  you  will  get  the  appointment?"  asked 
Mrs.  Esmond,  looking  up  at  him. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Coulthurst.  "I  really  think  the  people 
in  office  ought  to  do  something  for  me.  I  contrived  to 
save  them  a  good  deal  of  trouble  with  the  French  on  the 
frontier.  Still  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  Grace  if  I 
get  it,  though  I  had  thoughts  of  taking  her  out  to 
Canada." 

Mrs.  Esmond  appeared  to  reflect  for  a  moment  or  two. 

"Is  there  any  reason  why  you  shouldn't  leave  her  here?" 
she  said.    "I  think  I  took  good  care  of  her  before." 

They  had  almost  reached  the  table  where  the  others  sat, 
and  Coulthurst  stopped  with  a  shadow  of  perplexity  in  his 
sunburnt  face.  He  was  a  widower  with  insufficient  means, 
and  had  one  or  two  somewhat  pointed  letters  from  im- 
portunate creditors  in  his  pocket  then.  He  had  also  been 
a  friend  of  Mrs.  Esmond's  for  more  than  twenty  years,  but, 
though  by  no  means  fastidious  in  some  respects,  there  were 
points  on  which  he  possessed  a  certain  delicacy  of  senti- 
ment. 

"  I  almost  think  there  is.  Grace,  you  see,  is  older  now," 
he  said. 

Mrs.  Esmond  looked  up,  and,  as  it  happened,  Grace 
Coulthurst  and  Geoffrey  Esmond  came  slowly  towards  them 
across  the  lawn  just  then.  The  young  man's  gaze  was 
fixed  upon  the  girl,  but  she  was  looking  away  from  him, 
which  increased  the  suggestiveness  of  his  attitude  and 
expression,  for  both  of  those  who  watched  them  could  see 
his  face.  Grace  was  indeed  distinctly  pretty,  and  that  after- 
noon the  indefinite  but  unmistakable  attribute  which  the 
woman  who  had  defended  her  termed  good  style  was  es- 
pecially noticeable.  It  was  expressed  in  the  poise  of  the 
little  head,  the  erect  carriage,  and  even  the  fashion  in. 
which  the  light  draperies  hung  in  flowing  lines  about  the 


£6  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

shapely  figure.  Then  the  black-robed  lady  turned,  and 
looked  at  Coulthurst  steadily. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  though  she  had  not  spoken.  "Her 
mother  would  have  known  what  was  right — and  fitting,  but 
since  she  was  taken  from  me  I  feel  it — a  responsibility,  to 
say  the  least." 

"Could  you  not  trust  me?" 

"In  everything.  That  is,  unless  it  was  to  your  own  dis- 
advantage— or  what  would  certainly  be  regarded  so.  You 
mean  me  to  be  frank,  I  think  ?" 

"Of  course!  In  any  case,  I  am  not  sure  that  you  are 
capable  of  concealing  your  sentiments." 

"Then,"  said  Coulthurst  gravely,  "I  should  like  you  to 
remember  that  Grace  has  nothing." 

Mrs.  Esmond  smiled.  "And  Geoffrey  has  a  good  deal? 
Still,  we  have  it  on  excellent  authority  that  the  value  of 
a  good  woman  is  above  rubies." 

Major  Coulthurst  was  red-faced  and  burly,  and  usually 
abrupt  in  his  movements;  but  his  attitude  became  him  as 
he  made  his  companion  a  little  grave  inclination. 

"  Grace  is  very  like  her  mother — I  cannot  say  more  than 
that." 

Perhaps  it  was  not  very  tactful ;  though  he  did  not  know 
what  the  gossips  had  whispered  when  he  was  a  reckless 
subaltern  long  ago.  In  any  case,  he  had  married  a  woman 
with  as  few  possessions  as  he  himself  had,  and  his  life  had 
been  a  hard  one  ever  since.  His  companion,  however, 
smiled  somewhat  curiously. 

"I  think  she  is  in  many  ways  like  her  father  too;  but 
that  is  scarcely  the  point,"  she  said.  "I  have  offered  to 
take  care  of  her  for  you." 

"Well,"  said  Coulthurst  quietly,  "when  the  time  comes 
we  will  try  to  decide,  and  in  the  meanwhile  I  can  only  thank 
you." 

Then  they  joined  the  others,  and  for  awhile  sat  talking 
in  the  shade,  until  Geoffrey  Esmond,  who  had  taken  his 


CONFLICTING  CLAIMS  27 

place  beside  them,  looked  up  suddenly  with  a  curious  con- 
traction of  his  face. 

"I  am  almost  afTaid  we  are  going  to  have  some  undesir- 
able visitors,"  he  said. 

From  beyond  the  trees  that  shut  the  lawn  off  from  the 
village  there  rose  the  tooting  of  a  cornet,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  cheer  and  a  rattle  of  wheels.  Then  there  was  a 
murmur  of  harsh  voices  which  broke  portentously  through 
the  slumbrous  quietness,  and  Esmond,  rising  abruptly, 
glanced  at  the  major,  who  walked  a  little  apart  with  him. 
Esmond  looked,  worried. 

"Yes,"  he  said  in  answer  to  the  major's  questioning 
glance,  "I  fancy  they  are  coming  to  pull  my  gates  and 
fences  down.  Koberts,  the  groom,  heard  enough  in  Hoddam 
to  suggest  that  they  were  plotting  something  of  the  kind, 
and  I  told  him  to  have  a  horse  saddled,  though  I  didn't 
quite  believe  it  myself.  There  are,  however,  evidently 
several  wagonette-loads  of  them  yonder." 

"The  question  is,"  said  Coulthurst  sharply,  "do  you 
mean  to  let  them  in?" 

The  young  man  laughed.  "  I  should  almost  have  fancied 
it  was  unnecessary.  Including  the  keepers,  I  can  roll  up 
six  men.  That  makes  eight  with  you  and  me,  while  Leslie, 
who  is  a  magistrate,  as  you  know,  lives  scarcely  two  miles 
away." 

"Then  you  had  better  send  for  him.  Eight  men  with  the 
law  behind  them  should  be  quite  enough  to  hold  off  the 
rabble — that  is,  so  long  as  no  blow  is  struck ;  but  you  will 
excuse  my  mentioning  that  you  will  require  to  keep  a  firm 
hand  on  your  temper." 

"I'll  try,  though  I  have  been  told  it  isn't  a  very  ex- 
cellent one,"  said  the  younger  man.  "Now,  if  you  will 
beguile  the  women  into  the  house,  I'll  make  arrangements." 

Coulthurst  was  not  a  clever  man,  but  he  contrived  to 
accomplish  it ;  and  it  was  some  twenty  minutes  later  when 
he  and  Esmond  walked  down  a  path  beneath  the  beeches 


28  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

with  four  or  five  men  behind  them.  The  major  carried 
a  riding  whip,  and  there  was  a  curions  little  smile  in  his 
eyes,  while  the  rest  had  sticks,  though  in  accordance  with 
his  instructions  they  made  no  display  of  them.  The  wood 
was  shadowy  and  very  still,  and  there  was  no  sound  but 
that  made  by  startled  rabbits,  until  they  came  out  into  the 
sunlight,  where  a  spiked  railing  crossed  a  narrow  glade. 
There  was  a  mossy  path  beyond  it  chequered  with  patches 
of  cool  shadow,  and  a  group  of  dusty  men  were  moving 
down  it  towards  the  padlocked  gate.  The  foremost  of  them 
stopped  when  they  saw  the  party  from  the  Grange,  and 
then  after  a  whispered  consultation  came  on  again. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Esmond. 

"Into  the  Dene,"  said  one  of  the  strangers. 

"You  have  been  to  the  lodge  to  ask  permission ?" 

"No,"  said  another  hot  and  perspiring  man,  "we  haven't. 
It  isn't  necessary." 

"I'm  afraid  it  is,"  said  Esmond  quietly.  "In  fact,  there 
is  a  board  to  that  effect  a  few  yards  back.  No  doubt  you 
noticed  it." 

The  man  laughed.  "We  did.  It  isn't  there  now.  We 
pulled  it  up." 

Esmond  flushed  a  trifle.  "  Then  if  you  ever  wish  to  get 
into  the  Dene  I  think  you  made  a  mistake,"  he  said.  "  Still, 
as  you  can't  get  any  farther  to-day,  you  may  as  well  go 
back.    This  gate  is  locked." 

"That  don't  count,"  said  somebody.  "We'll  have  it 
off  its  hinges  inside  five  minutes." 

The  lad  swung  round  sharply  towards  the  speaker,  but 
Coulthurst  laid  a  restraining  hand  upon  his  arm.  "Steady !" 
he  said,  and  raised  his  voice  a  trifle.  "Now,  look  here,  my 
men,  you  certainly  can't  come  in,  and  you'll  only  get 
yourselves  into  trouble  by  trying.  This  is  private  prop- 
erty." 

"Of  course!"  said  one  of  the  strangers.  "Everything 
is.     You've  got  the  land,  and  you've  got  the  water — one 


CONFLICTING  CLAIMS  29 

can't  even  bathe  in  the  river  now.  It's  not  your  fault  you 
can't  lay  hands  on  the  air  and  sunshine,  too." 

There  was  an  approving  murmur  from  his  comrades,  and 
Esmond  shook  off  the  major's  grasp. 

"That  is  rot!"  he  said.  "Willow  Dene  belongs  to  me, 
and  you  are  certainly  not  coming  in.  I  don't  feel  inclined 
to  explain  my  reasons  for  keeping  you  out  of  it,  and  it's 
quite  probable  you  wouldn't  understand  them.  Have  you 
brought  any  responsible  person  to  whom  one  could  talk 
along  with  you?" 

The  languid  insolence  in  his  even  tone  had  an  effect 
which  a  flood  of  invective  might  have  failed  to  produce; 
and  once  more  there  was  a  murmur  from  the  crowd,  while 
a  man  with  a  grim,  dust-smeared  face  held  up  a  bludgeon. 

"We've  brought  these,  and  they're  good  enough,"  he  said. 

Then  the  men  moved  a  little,  and  there  were  cries  of 
"Let  him  have  a  chance !"  as  a  young  man  pushed  his  way 
through  them.  He  was  plainly  and  neatly  dressed  and 
carried  nothing  in  his  hand. 

"I'm  sorry  our  Committee  is  not  here  to  lay  our  views 
before  you,  Mr.  Esmond,  which  was  what  we  had  intended ; 
but  if  you  will  try  to  look  at  the  thing  sensibly  it  will  save 
everybody  trouble,"  he  said. 

"What  has  become  of  the  worthy  gentlemen?  Weren't 
they  capable  of  walking  from  the  'Griffin'  ?"  asked  Esmond 
drily.    "It  really  isn't  very  far." 

The  young  man  did  not  appear  to  notice  the  jibe.  "  The 
fact  is,  we  had  a  little  dispute  among  ourselves,"  he  said. 
"The  views  of  the  Committee  didn't  quite  coincide  with 
those  of  the  rest,  but  since  the  Committee  is  not  here  I 
should  like  to  point  out  that  the  Hoddam  people  have 
passed  through  the  Dene  without  hindrance  for  at  least 
twenty  years,  and  as  that  gives  them  a  legal  right  of  way 
they  mean  to  continue  doing  it.  Now,  if  you  will  make  no 
opposition  we  will  promise  that  no  damage  whatever  will 
be  done  to  your  property." 


SO  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Don't  you  worry  about  the  concerned  Committee," 
said  a  roice  from  the  crowd.  "It's  got  the  sulks.  Only 
two  turned  out.    We're  going  by  what  Mr.  Leger  says." 

Esmond  glanced  at  the  man  in  front  of  him,  with  a  little 
sardonic  smile.  "I  have  only  your  assurance,  and  I'm 
afraid  it  would  scarcely  be  wise  to  place  more  confidence 
in  your  friends  than  their  leaders  seem  to  have  done. 
Their  appearance  is,  unfortunately,  against  them." 

There  were  cries  of  "Stop  it,  Leger;  you're  wasting  time ! 
Tell  him  to  get  out  of  the  way !    We're  coming  in !" 

The  young  man  raised  his  hand.  "I  believe  they  mean 
it,  Mr.  Esmond.  Now,  there  are  two  sensible  courses  open 
to  you.  Unlock  that  gate  and  make  no  further  opposition ; 
or  stand  aside  while  we  lift  it  off  its  hinges,  and  then 
proceed  against  us  for  trespassing.  You  will,  if  you  are 
wise,  make  no  attempt  to  prevent  our  getting  in." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  the  little  knot  of  men 
behind  the  gate  and  the  crowd  outside  watched  each  other's 
faces.  One  or  two  were  evidently  uneasy,  others  a  trifle 
grim,  but  there  was  a  portentous  murmur  from  the  dusty 
rabble  farther  back  in  the  shadow.  Then  young  Esmond 
laughed  in  an  unpleasant  fashion  as  he  drew  the  lash  of  his 
dog-whip  suggestively  through  his  hand. 

"Whoever  lays  a  hand  upon  this  gate  will  take  the  conse- 
quences," he  said. 

Coulthurst  touched  his  shoulder,  and  said  something  in 
his  ear,  but  the  young  man  moved  away  from  him  im- 
patiently. 

"Am  I  to  be  dictated  to  by  this  rabble?  Let  them 
come!"  he  said. 

The  major  made  a  little  gesture  of  resignation.  "Well," 
he  said,  "if  you  are  determined  to  make  trouble  I  think 
you  will  get  your  wish." 

Then  the  front  of  the  crowd  split  up,  and  several  men 
came  out  from  it  carrying  between  them  what  appeared  to 
be  the  post  to  which  the  notice-board  had  been  nailed.  They 


CONFLICTING  CLAIMS  31 

came  on  at  a  run,  and,  disregarding  the  major's  warning, 
swung  it  like  a  battering  ram.  Next  moment  there  was  a 
crash.  The  gate  rattled,  but  still  held  fast,  while  the  lash 
of  Esmond's  dog-whip  curled  round  one  man's  hand.  He 
loosed  his  hold  upon  the  post  with  a  howl,  his  comrades 
recoiled,  and  there  was  an  angry  cry  from  the  rear  of  the 
crowd,  while  a  sod  alighted  squarely  in  the  major's  face. 
He  wiped  it  quietly  with  his  handkerchief,  and  then  seizing 
Esmond  by  main  force  thrust  him  a  few  paces  aside. 

"Go  home,  my  men,  and  you  have  my  word  that  the 
affair  shall  go  no  further,"  he  said.  "It's  your  last  chance. 
We'll  have  a  magistrate  and  several  policemen  here  in  a 
very  few  minutes." 

"Look  out  for  yourself,"  said  somebody.  "We're  noth- 
ing against  you.  Now,  pick  up  your  post,  boys,  and  down 
with  the  thing!" 

The  men  with  the  post  came  on  again ;  there  was  a  roar 
from  the  crowd,  and  a  crash,  as  the  gate  swung  open ;  then 
as  a  man  with  a  stick  sprang  through  the  gap  Esmond's 
dog-whip  came  down  upon  his  face.  Next  moment  some- 
body had  hurled  him  backwards,  and  the  crowd  rolled 
through  the  opening. 

"Back  there!  Look  after  your  master,  Jenkins!"  the 
major's  voice  rang  out,  and  a  man  dropped  suddenly  be- 
neath his  riding-crop. 

Then  nobody  knew  exactly  what  happened,  but  while  the 
sticks  rose  and  fell  Ingleby  and  Esmond,  who  had  evaded 
the  burly  keeper,  found  themselves  face  to  face.  Esmond, 
who  was  flushed  and  gasping,  swung  the  dog-whip  round 
his  head,  but  before  he  struck,  Leger  sprang  straight  at  him 
with  empty  hands.  Then  a  stick  that  somebody  swung  came 
down,  and  Esmond  fell  just  clear  of  the  rest,  with  a  gash 
on  his  forehead  from  which  there  spread  a  crimson  smear. 
Leger  staggered  forward,  and  the  major  gripped  his 
shoulder  and  flung  him  into  the  arms  of  a  keeper. 

"Hold  him  fast!    That's  the  lad  who  did  it,"  he  said, 


32  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

and  faced  round  on  the  crowd  with  hand  swung  up  and 
voice  ringing  commandingly. 

"You  have  already  done  as  much  as  you  will  care  to 
account  for,"  he  said.  "Manslaughter  is  a  somewhat  seri- 
ous thing." 

The  tumult  ceased  for  a  moment,  and  everybody  saw 
Esmond  lying  very  still  upon  the  turf  with  the  ominous 
smear  of  crimson  on  his  blanched  face.  His  eyes  were 
half  closed  now,  and  they  had  an  unpleasantly  suggestive 
appearance.  Then  Ingleby  stepped  forward  and  turned  to 
Coulthurst. 

"Nobody  will  interfere  with  you  while  you  take  him 
away,  but  the  man  you  have  was  not  the  one  who  struck 
him  down,"  he  said.  "Give  him  up,  and  we'll  go  back 
quietly." 

The  Major  smiled  grimly.  "I  hope,"  he  said,  "to  hand 
him  to  the  police  inside  five  minutes." 

"Look  here,"  said  somebody,  "it  was  all  Mr.  Esmond's 
own  fault,  and,  so  to  speak,  an  accident.  Go  and  get  a 
doctor  for  him,  and  let  us  have  our  man." 

There  was  a  little  hard  glitter  in  Coulthurst's  eyes.  "He 
will  find  it  difficult  to  persuade  a  jury  of  that.  Stick  to 
the  lad,  Jenkins,  and  pick  Mr.  Esmond  up,  two  of  you. 
Stand  aside  there,  and  it's  possible  that  we  will  not  proceed 
against  any  more  of  you." 

Ingleby  turned  to  the  crowd.  "You're  not  going 
to  let  them  hand  him  to  the  police  for  a  thing  he  didn't 
do?" 

There  was  a  rush  and  a  scuffle,  the  major's  riding-crop 
was  torn  from  him,  and  groom  and  gardener  and  keeper 
were  swept  away,  while  Ingleby,  laughing  harshly,  reeled 
into  the  shadow  of  the  trees  with  his  hand  on  Leger's 
shoulder. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "there's  nothing  that  need  keep  us 
here." 

Then,  while  some  of  his  companions  pursued  Esmond's 


CONFLICTING  CLAIMS  33 

retainers,  and  the  rest  stood  still,  uncertain  what  to  do 
next,  Ingleby  started  back  through  the  woods  towards  Hod- 
dam,  dragging  Leger,  who  seemed  a  trifle  dazed. 


IV 

LEGEK'S   RESPONSIBILITY 

EGER  was  paler  than  usual,  as  well  as  breathless  and 
very  dusty,  when  he  flung  himself  down  in  a  dilapi- 
dated arm-chair  in  Ingleby's  room.  The  window  was  open, 
for  it  was  very  hot,  and  Ingleby,  who  stood  near  it,  ap- 
peared to  be  listening  intently  to  the  patter  of  feet  that 
came  up  from  the  narrow  street,  until  he  moved  forward 
and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  sash.  Then  Leger  laughed  hol- 
lowly. 

"I  don't  think  that's  necessary,  and  I  wish  you  would 
leave  it  as  it  is  just  now,"  he  said.  "Considering  that  you 
live  on  the  fourth  story  they're  scarcely  likely  to  come  in 
that  way." 

"I  did  it  without  thinking,"  said  Ingleby,  who  turned  to 
him  a  trifle  flushed  in  face.  "You're  looking  faint.  I  can 
get  you  some  water — fortunately  if s  cheap." 

"I'll  be  all  right  in  a  minute  or  two,"  and  Leger  made  a 
little  deprecatory  gesture.  "I'm  not  sure  I  ever  made  four 
miles  quite  so  fast  before,  and  the  blow  I  got  from  that 
fellow's  dog-whip,  the  handle  end,  must  have  shaken  me. 
Never  mind  the  water." 

Ingleby  sat  down,  a  trifle  limply,  and,  unconscious  of  the 
fact  that  his  own  clothes  were  badly  torn,  gazed  at  his  com- 
panion. Leger's  dusty  disarray  heightened  the  effect  of  his 
pallor,  and  his  hair,  dank  with  perspiration,  lay  smeared 
upon  his  forehead,  while  there  was  a  big  discoloured  bruise 
upon  one  cheek.  They  had  come  home  across  the  meadow 
and  through  the  woodland  instead  of  by  the  road,  and 

34 


LEGER'S  RESPONSIBILITY  35 

neither  of  them  remembered  how  many  hedges  and  thickets 
they  had  scrambled  through,  since  the  one  thing  apparent 
was  the  advisability  of  escaping  attention. 

"We  made  an  excellent  pace,"  Ingleby  said.  "I  scarcely 
think  that  the  others  can  have  got  here  yet.  They  hadn't 
the  same  necessity  for  haste.  Still,  I'm  almost  afraid  it 
was  wasted  energy.  You  see,  the  police  wouldn't  be  very 
long  in  tracing  us." 

"I  don't  suppose  so.  That  big  military-looking  fellow 
meant  to  make  sure  of  me.  No  doubt  he'll  send  a  groom 
over  with  our  description.  He  seemed  to  recognize  you, 
too." 

Ingleby  rose  abruptly  and  leaned  against  the  mantel  with 
his  lips  firmly  set.  It  was  several  moments  before  he  spoke 
again. 

"I  think  he  did,"  he  said.  "In  fact,  Fd  have  done  al- 
most anything  sooner  than  have  had  this  happen;  though, 
that  doesn't  matter  now.  There's  a  more  important  ques- 
tion— and  it  has  to  be  faced." 

They  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  for  a  second  or  two, 
and  both  their  faces  were  very  grim  with  the  shadow  of 
fear  in  them.  They  were  young,  and  shrank  from  the  con- 
templation of  what  it  seemed  had  been  done.  The  thing 
was  horrible  in  itself,  quite  apart  from  the  consequences, 
which  promised  to  be  disastrous. 

"You  mean/'  said  Leger  very  quietly,  "is  he  dead?" 

Ingleby  made  a  little  gesture,  and  once  more  for  almost 
a  minute  the  heavy  silence  was  intensified  by  the  ticking 
of  his  watch  and  the  sounds  in  the  street  below.  Both  of 
them  listened  intently,  almost  expecting  to  hear  the  tramp 
of  heavy  feet  upon  the  stairway. 

"Heaven  forbid !"  said  Ingleby,  a  trifle  hoarsely.  "Still, 
he  looked  horribly  like  it.  There's  just  one  thing  of  which 
I  should  like  to  be  quite  certain." 

"Of  course !"  and  Leger  met  his  comrade's  gaze.  "Sup- 
pose I  told  you  I  did  it,  would  it  separate  us?" 


36  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

"No,"  said  Ingleby.  "You  know  that.  It  might  have 
been  I ;  and,  anyway,  we  were  both  in  the  thing." 

"Then,  as  you  supposed,  the  military  man  was  mistaken. 
I  had  nothing  in  my  hands,  and  never  even  reached  him." 

Ingleby,  in  spite  of  his  protestations,  drew  a  deep  breath 
of  relief,  but  Leger,  who  appeared  to  be  recovering  now, 
smiled. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you're  satisfied,  but  it  doesn't  in  the 
least  affect  the  position.  You  see,  the  military  gentleman 
appeared  certain  he  saw  me  strike  the  blow,  and  I  scarcely 
think  my  word  would  go  very  far  against  his  with  the 
usual  kind  of  jury." 

"You  know  who  did  it?" 

Leger  smiled  curiously.  "I  do,  but  you  ought  to  under- 
stand that  the  fact  isn't  of  much  use  to  me." 

"You  mean?" 

"I  could  plead  not  guilty,  but  I  couldn't  point  out  the 
man  responsible.  You  see,  I  induced  him  to  join  the  So- 
ciety, and  gave  him  the  American's  pamphlets — I  believe 
the  more  virulent  ones.  They  seemed  to  make  a  strong  im- 
pression on  him.  One  can't  well  back  out  of  his  responsi- 
bility— especially  when  the  adversary  is  always  ready  to 
make  the  most  of  the  opportunity.  Besides,  the  man  has  a 
family." 

Ingleby  clenched  one  hand.    "And  you  have  Hetty." 

"Yes,"  said  Leger  with  an  impressive  quietness.  "And 
Hetty  has  only  me.  Still,  one  must  do  what  he  feels  he 
has  to." 

"But  you  can't  leave  Hetty — and  what  would  happen  to' 
her  if  you  were " 

"If  I  were  in  jail?"  and  Leger's  face  went  awry.  "She 
would  be  turned  out  of  her  berth  to  a  certainty.  It  didn't 
quite  strike  me  until  you  put  the  thing  before  me.  There's 
the  lad's  mother  too.  A  little  horrible,  isn't  it?  How 
long  does  one  usually  get  for  manslaughter?" 

Again  there  was  silence  save  for  Ingleby's  groan.  Demo- 


LEGER'S  RESPONSIBILITY  37 

eratic  aspirations  were  very  well  as  subjects  for  discussion, 
but  now  that  be  was  brought  face  to  face  with  the  results  of 
attempting  to  realize  them,  they  appalled  him.  He  did 
not  remember  that  usually  very  little  worth  the  having  can 
be  obtained  without  somebody's  getting  hurt ;  and  it  would 
have  afforded  him  no  great  consolation  if  he  had  remem- 
bered, since,  for  the  time  being,  he  had  had  quite  enough  of 
theories.    Then  he  made  a  little  abrupt  gesture. 

"Tom,"  he  said,  "what  dolts  we  are!  The  thing  is 
perfectly  simple.  You  have  only  to  come  out  with  me, 
and  the  fact  that  you've  made  a  bolt  of  it  will  be  quite 
enough  to  divert  suspicion  from  the  other  man." 

"  There  is  a  difficulty.  Steamboat  fares  cost  money,  and 
I'm  not  sure  Hetty  and  I  have  five  pounds  in  the  treasury. " 

Ingleby  laughed  almost  light-heartedly.  "I  think  I 
have  enough  to  take  us  all  out  at  the  cheapest  rates,  and 
you  must  let  me  lend  it  to  you,  if  only  to  prove  that  what 
you  believe  in  isn't  an  impracticable  fancy." 

Leger  slowly  straightened  himself.  "I  don't  want  to  be 
ungracious — but  it's  a  difficult  thing  to  do.  The  money's 
yours — and  you'd  have  nothing  left." 

Ingleby  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  gripped  it  hard. 
"Are  you  willing  to  see  your  sister  cast  adrift  to  save  your 
confounded  pride  ?  The  fact  that  she  has  a  relative  under- 
going penal  servitude  isn't  much  of  a  recommendation  to  a 
girl  who  has  to  earn  her  bread.  Besides,  like  a  good  many 
of  us,  you're  not  logical.  You  thought  you  had  a  claim  on 
Esmond's  property." 

*  There  was  a  light  step  on  the  stairway,  and  he  stopped 
suddenly.  "There's  Hetty,"  he  said.  "We'll  leave  it  to 
her." 

The  door  swung  open,  and  the  girl  came  in  gasping,  with 
horror  in  her  eyes. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "it's  awful!  They've  come  in  with  the 
wagonettes,  and  Harry  told  me.    How  did  it  happen  ?" 

"Sit  down,"  said  Ingleby  gently.    "Tom  will  explain." 


38  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

Leger  did  so  concisely,  and  Hetty  clenched  the  chair- 
arm  hard  as  she  listened  to  him.  Still,  young  as  she  was, 
she  held  herself  in  hand,  and  sat  very  still,  with  the  colour 
ebbing  from  her  face. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  she  said. 

"Ingleby  has  asked  us  to  go  out  to  Canada  with  him. 
He  offers  to  lend  us  the  money." 

The  girl's  face  flushed  suddenly,  and  she  glanced  at 
Ingleby,  who  appeared  embarrassed. 

"How  much  will  you  have  left  if  you  do  that?"  she 
asked. 

"I  don't  know  yet.  Anyway,  it  doesn't  matter.  If  you 
make  any  silly  objections,  Hetty,  Tom  will  go  to  jail." 

The  girl  turned  to  her  brother,  with  the  crimson  still  in 
her  cheek  and  her  lips  quivering,  and  it  suddenly  struck 
Ingleby  that  she  was  really  remarkably  pretty,  though  that 
appeared  of  no  great  moment  just  then. 

"That  would  happen,  Tom?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Leger  quietly;  "I  believe  it  would." 

Hetty  turned  again,  and  looked  at  Ingleby  with  a  curious 
intentness.    "You  are  quite  sure  you  want  us?" 

Ingleby,  moved  by  an  impulse  he  did  not  understand, 
caught  and  held  fast  one  of  her  hands.  "Hetty,"  he  said, 
"aren't  we  old  friends?  There  is  nobody  I  would  sooner 
take  with  me,  but  we  shall  certainly  quarrel  if  you  ask  me 
a  question  of  that  kind  again." 

The  girl's  expression  perplexed  him,  and  with  a  sudden 
movement  she  drew  her  hand  away.  "Well,"  she  said, 
"we  will  come.  I  would  stay — only  I  know  Tom  would  not 
go  without  me;  but  whatever  happens  we  will  pay  you 
back  the  money." 

"I  don't  think  you  want  to  be  unpleasant,  Hetty,"  said 
Ingleby.  "Anyway,  you  have  only  about  an  hour  in  which 
to  get  ready,  because  if  we're  not  off  by  the  next  train  it's 
quite  likely  that  we  shall  not  have  the  opportunity  for 
going  at  all.    Get  what  you  want  together,  and  meet  us  be- 


LEGER'S  RESPONSIBILITY  39 

hind  the  booking  office  on  the  main  line  platform.  Tom 
and  I  will  take  the  back  way  to  the  station." 

Hetty  turned  and  went  out  without  a  word,  and  Leger 
looked  at  his  companion. 

"I  don't  think  she  meant  to  hurt  you,  but  what  she  did 
mean  exactly  is  a  good  deal  more  than  I  understand,"  he 
said. 

Ingleby  made  a  little  impatient  gesture.  "I  don't  sup- 
pose it  matters.  Girls  seem  to  have  curious  fancies.  In 
the  meanwhile  it  might  be  as  well  if  we  made  a  start.  I'll 
lend  you  a  decent  jacket,  and,  as  you  had  a  cap  on,  it  would 
be  advisable  to  take  my  straw  hat.  To  carry  out  the  same 
notion  I'll  slip  on  my  one  dark  suit.  They  usually  make  a 
point  of  mentioning  one's  clothes." 

They  were  ready  in  about  ten  minutes,  but  when  they 
had  descended  the  long  stairway  Ingleby  stopped  in  the 
dingy  hall,  and  stood  still  a  moment  irresolute. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  the  harpy  downstairs  we  might  get 
clear  away  before  anybody  was  aware  that  we  had  gone," 
he  said.  "I  can't  leave  her  what  I  owe  her  either,  for  one 
never  does  seem  to  have  change  when  he  wants  it.  How 
much  have  you  got  on  you?" 

"A  handful  of  copper,"  said  Leger,  with  a  little  grim 
smile. 

Ingleby  appeared  to  reflect.  "I  could  send  her  the  few 
shillings  from  wherever  we  stop." 

"The  Post  Office  people  obligingly  stamp  every  envelope 
with  the  name  of  the  place  it  comes  from.  I  don't  think 
we  want  to  leave  a  trail  behind  us." 

Ingleby  stood  still  a  moment  longer  with  a  flush  in  his 
face.  "Nothing  would  stop  that  woman's  talking — not 
even  a  gag.    It's  horribly  unfortunate." 

"It  usually  is,"  and  Leger  looked  at  him  with  a  curious 
little  smile.  "The  worst  of  having  a  propaganda  is  that 
the  people  who  haven't  any  get  indignant  when  one  doesn't 


40  Delilah  of  the  snows 

live  up  to  it.  They  naturally  lay  part  of  the  blame  on  the 
fallacies  he  believes  in." 

Ingleby  swung  round.  "I'd  sooner  face  a  battery — but 
I'm  going  down." 

He  disappeared  down  the  basement  steps,  and  in  another 
minute  a  harsh  voice  apparently  vituperating  him  rose  up, 
and  when  he  rejoined  his  comrade  his  face  was  redder 
than  ever. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "we'll  go ;  the  sooner  the  better.  Every- 
body in  the  neighbourhood  will  know  what  she  thinks  of 
me  inside  of  ten  minutes." 

They  slipped  out  into  the  street,  and  Ingleby  stopped  a 
moment  at  the  end  of  it  and  looked  back  with  a  curious 
expression  in  his  face.  The  sunlight  that  lay  bright  upon 
one  side  of  it  emphasized  its  unattractiveness.  Tall  houses, 
grim  in  their  squalid  ugliness,  shut  it  in,  and  the  hot  air 
that  scarcely  stirred  between  them  was  heavy  with  the  sour 
odours  from  a  neighbouring  tanyard.  A  hoarse  clamour 
and  a  woman's  voice,  high-pitched  and  shrill  with  fear  or 
anger,  came  out  of  a  shadowy  alley  where  unkempt  children 
played  in  the  gutter.  The  uproar  did  not  concern  them. 
They  were  apparently  used  to  it. 

"I've  lived  five  years  in  the  midst  of — this — and  now  I'm 
almost  sorry  to  leave  it,"  he  said.  "There's  no  reason 
in  us." 

Then  he  turned  again  with  a  little  resolute  shake  of  his 
shoulders.  "Well,  we  have  done  with  it  at  last,  and  if  half 
what  one  hears  is  true  there  is  a  chance  for  such  as  us  in 
the  country  we  are  going  to." 

Leger  said  nothing,  and  it  was  silently  they  threaded 
their  way  deviously  in  and  out  of  alleys  and  archways  to- 
wards the  station.  Their  life  had  been  a  hard  one  in  that 
squalid  town,  but  the  place  had,  after  all,  been  home,  and 
they  could  not  tell  what  awaited  them  in  the  unknown. 
They  had  in  them  the  steadfastness  which  is  born  of  strug- 


LEGER'S  RESPONSIBILITY  41 

gle,  but  the  unthinking  courage  of  youth  that  has  felt  no 
care  is  quite  a  different  thing. 

However,  nobody  appeared  desirous  of  preventing  their 
departure,  and  they  eventually  got  away  by  a  steamer  for 
which  they  had  to  wait  several  days  in  Liverpool. 

In  the  meanwhile  Geoffrey  Esmond  lay  one  evening 
propped  up  amidst  the  pillows  in  a  darkened  room  at  Holt- 
car  Grange.  He  was  blanched  in  face,  and  his  eyes  were 
heavy,  while  a  big  wet  bandage  was  still  rolled  about  his 
head.  Major  Coulthurst  was  by  his  bedside,  and  a  burly 
sergeant  of  police  sat  on  the  very  edge  of  a  sofa  with  a  note- 
book in  his  hand.  The  window  was  open  behind  the  blind, 
and  a  little  cool  air  that  brought  the  fragrance  of  flowers 
with  it  crept  into  the  room. 

"Major  Coulthurst  fancied  he  could  recognize  the  man 
who  assaulted  you,  Mr.  Esmond,  and  I  have  no  doubt  we 
will  lay  hands  on  him  in  a  day  or  two,"  said  the  officer. 
"If  you  could  identify  him,  too,  it  would  make  the  thing 
more  certain,  and  I  would  like  to  read  you  the  description 
furnished  me  before  we  go  any  farther." 

"If  that  is  the  usual  course  I  don't  see  why  I  should 
object,"  said  Esmond  drily.  "  Still,  isn't  it  a  trifle  sugges- 
tive?" 

The  sergeant  did  not  appear  to  notice  the  irony  of  the 
inquiry,  and  launched  out  into  what  was,  in  the  circum- 
stances, a  tolerably  accurate  description  of  Leger.  Esmond 
listened  quietly,  with  a  little  smile  in  his  half-closed  eyes. 

"Major  Coulthurst,"  he  said,  "is  evidently  astonishingly 
quick-sighted  if  he  saw  all  that." 

"I'm  not  sure  I  understand  you,  Esmond,"  and  Coul- 
thurst looked  up  sharply. 

"Well,"  said  the  younger  man  reflectively,  "I  always 
fancied  you  were  a  sportsman,  and  we  had  our  fun.  Of 
course,  while  it  lasted  I  would  cheerfully  have  broken  the 
Socialist  fellow's  head  if  I  could  have  managed  it,  but  just 
now  the  odds  seem  a  trifle  heavy  against  him." 


42  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Coulthurst  laughed  a  little,  but  the  sergeant  shook  his 
head.  "That's  not  at  all  the  way  to  look  at  it,  sir,"  he 
said.  "In  a  case  of  this  kind  one  has,  if  I  may  point  it  out, 
a  duty  to  society." 

"And  the  police?"  said  Esmond,  who  made  a  little  ges- 
ture. "I  really  do  not  think  I  should  ask  the  opinion  of 
the  latter  as  to  what  is  incumbent  on  me.  Still,  that  is 
scarcely  the  point.  You  want  me  to  identify  the  man — 
and  I  can't  do  it." 

"You  must  have  seen  him  close  to,  sir." 

Esmond  laughed.  "Have  you  ever  had  incipient  con- 
cussion of  the  brain?  You  probably  haven't.  I  believe 
they  line  your  headgear  with  cork  or  cane.  Well,  in  one 
respect,  it's  a  little  unfortunate,  since  it  would  have  helped 
you  to  understand  my  position.  Now,  the  major  says  the 
man's  hair  was  light  brown,  but  so  far  as  I  can  remember 
it  was  red.    Are  you  quite  sure  it  wasn't,  Coulthurst?" 

Coulthurst  appeared  reflective.  "He  certainly  had  his 
hat  on." 

"A  cap,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant. 

Esmond  glanced  at  the  major  reproachfully.  "You  will 
notice,  sergeant,  how  reliable  he  is." 

"The  fact  mentioned  wouldn't  prevent  your  seeing  what 
kind  of  man  he  was,"  said  the  sergeant,  tartly.  "He  is 
described  as  little  and  pale,  and  of  a  delicate  appearance." 

"Then  if  the  blow  on  my  head  is  anything  to  go  by,  I 
really  think  my  friend  was  mistaken,"  said  Esmond.  "It's 
my  firm  opinion  the  man  was  distinctly  muscular." 

The  sergeant  stood  up,  and  closed  his  book.  "The  affair 
is  a  serious  one,  and  we  naturally  look  to  a  gentleman  of 
your  position  for " 

Esmond  stopped  him  with  a  gesture  and  a  little  languid 
smile,  under  which,  however,  the  burly  sergeant  flushed. 

"As  I  fancy  I  mentioned,  there  are  matters  in  which  it 
is  hardly  the  province  of  the  police  to  instruct  me,"  he  said. 
"I'm  sorry  I  can't  do  anything  more  for  you  to-day,  ser- 


LEGER'S  RESPONSIBILITY  43 

geant,  but  if  you  were  to  come  round  when  my  head  has 
settled  down  a  little  I  might  be  able  to  recollect  the  fellow's 
appearance  rather  more  distinctly." 

"If  we  are  to  lay  hands  on  him  we  must  have  a  warrant 
at  once." 

"Then  if  it  depends  on  me  I'm  very  much  afraid  you  will 
not  get  it — and  now,  as  the  doctor  insists  on  quietness,  you 
will  excuse  me.     Can  you  reach  the  bell,  Major?" 

The  sergeant  went  out  fuming  inwardly,  and  Coulthurst 
laughed.  "I'm  not  quite  sure  that  I  should  have  let  the 
fellow  off,"  he  said.    "What  made  you  do  it?" 

"I  really  don't  know,  and  scarcely  think  it  matters," 
said  Esmond  languidly.  "Still,  you  see,  I  fancv  we  went 
a  little  farther  than  the  law  would  sanction,  and  that  being 
so  one  could  scarcely  expect  the  other  fellow  to  pay  for 
everything.  Now,  if  I  might  remind  you,  Miss  Coulthurst 
was  kind  enough  to  promise  to  come  in  and  talk  to  me." 


THE  NEW  COUNTRY 

TT  was  a  still  evening,  and  Major  Coulthurst  and  Mrs. 
Esmond  paced  slowly  side  by  side  up  and  down  the 
terrace  at  Holtcar  Grange.  The  house  looked  westward, 
and  the  last  of  the  sunshine  rested  lovingly  upon  its  weath- 
ered front,  where  steep  tiled  roof  and  flaking  stone  that  had 
silvery  veins  in  it  were  mellowed  to  pale  warm  tints  by  age. 
Beyond  it,  orchid  house,  fernery,  and  vinery  flashed  amidst 
the  trees ;  while  the  great  cool  lawn,  shaven  to  the  likeness 
of  emerald  velvet,  glowing  borders,  and  even  the  immacu- 
late gravel  that  crunched  beneath  the  major's  feet  con- 
veyed the  same  suggestion  to  him.  It  was  evident  that  there 
was  no  need  of  economy  at  Holtcar  Grange,  and  Coulthurst, 
who  had  faced  the  world  long  enough  to  recognize  the  dis- 
advantages of  an  empty  purse,  sighed  as  he  remembered  the 
last  budget  the  post  had  brought  him. 

He  had  served  his  nation  sturdily,  according  to  his  lights, 
which,  however,  were  not  especially  brilliant,  wherever 
work  was  hardest  and  worst  paid ;  while  now,  when  it  was 
almost  time  to  rest,  he  was  going  out  again  to  the  wilderness 
on  the  farthest  confines  of  a  new  country,  where  even  those 
who  serve  the  Government  live  primitively.  He  longed  to 
stay  in  England  and  take  his  ease,  but  funds  were  even 
lower  than  they  usually  were  with  him.  Still,  he  shrank 
from  exposing  his  daughter  to  the  discomforts  he  was  at 
last  commencing  to  find  it  hard  to  bear,  and  she  had  but  to 
speak  a  word  and  remain,  with  all  that  any  young  woman 
could  reasonably  look  for,  the  mistress  of  Holtcar  Grange. 

44 


THE  NEW  COUNTRY  45 

Though  he  roused  himself  with  an  effort  he  felt  that  his 
conversation  was  even  less  brilliant  than  usual  and  that  his 
companion  noticed  it.  It  was  certain  that  she  smiled  when 
she  surprised  him  glancing  somewhat  anxiously  across  the 
lawn. 

"You  have  quite  decided  on  going  out?"  she  asked. 

"I  have,"  said  Coulthurst  simply.  "In  ten  days  from 
to-day.  The  commission's  in  my  pocket — I  was  uncom- 
monly glad  to  get  it." 

}     "Still,"  said  Mrs.  Esmond,  "the  pay  cannot  be  very  high, 
and  it  must  be  a  wild  country." 

"It   is   quite  sufficient  for   a  lonely  man,   and   now 

Grace " 

'•     He  stopped  abruptly,  a  trifle  flushed  in  face,  and  his  com- 
panion smiled  at  him. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  understand,  and  if  it  happens  as 
we  both  wish  I  shall  be  content.  Geoffrey  has  been  a  good 
son,  but  I  could  not  expect  to  keep  him  always  to  myself 
— and  I  would  rather  it  should  be  Grace  than  any  one  else." 

"Thank  you!"  said  Coulthurst  simply.  "Whether  I 
have  done  right  in  allowing  her  to  come  here  I  do  not 
know.  In  any  case,  I  never  suspected  what  might  happen 
until  a  month  ago.  Then  I  was  a  trifle  astonished,  but  the 
mischief  was  done." 

Mrs.  Esmond  laughed.  "You  might  have  expressed  it 
more  happily,  though  it  is  perhaps  only  natural  that  there 
was  a  day  or  two  when  I  would  not  have  found  fault  with 
you." 

Coulthurst  said  nothing  further,  but  his  thoughts  were 
busy.  He  knew  better  than  most  men  what  life  in  the 
newer  lands  is,  and  he  had  no  desire  that  Grace  should 
share  it  with  him.  What  she  thought  of  Esmond  he  did 
not  know ;  but  the  latter  had  told  him  what  he  thought  of 
her,  and  his  mother  was,  it  seemed,  content  with  the  choice 
he  had  made.    A  good  deal  depended  on  the  girl's  fancy. 

They  had  turned  again  when  she  came  towards  them 


46  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

across  the  lawn  as  though  she  did  not  see  them,  until,  hear- 
ing their  footsteps,  she  stopped  abruptly.  Nobody  spoke 
for  a  moment  or  two,  but  she  felt  their  eyes  upon  her,  and 
the  crimson  grew  deeper  in  her  cheek  as  she  turned  to  the 
elder  lady. 

"I  see  you  know,"  she  said,  with  a  little  tremor  in  her 
voice.  "You  will  forgive  me  if  he  feels  hurt  over  it — but 
I  felt  I  could  not.     Geoffrey,  of  course,  is " 

The  major  groaned  inwardly  when  she  stopped,  and  there 
was  a  sudden  slight  but  perceptible  change  in  his  com- 
panion. Her  face  lost  its  usual  gentleness,  and  became  for 
a  moment  not  hard  or  vindictive,  but  impressively  grave. 

"I  am  glad — because  he  is  my  only  son — that  you  had 
the  courage  to  do  the  right  thing — now,"  she  said. 

Grace  flashed  a  swift  glance  at  her,  and  the  colour  showed 
a  trifle  more  plainly  in  her  face,  but,  saying  nothing,  she 
hastily  turned  away.  Coulthurst  stood  stiffly  still,  evi- 
dently perplexed  at  something  in  the  attitude  of  both,  until 
Mrs.  Esmond  looked  at  him. 

"I  am  disappointed,"  she  said. 

Coulthurst  raised  his  hand  in  protest.  "It  is  very  good 
of  you  to  say  so,  but,  while  she  is  my  daughter  and  I  am 
naturally  a  trifle  proud  of  her,  the  advantages  would  in  one 
sense  have  been  so  much  in  her  favour " 

"I  don't  think  you  apprehend  me.  These  affairs  seldom 
fall  out  as  one  would  wish  them,  which  is,  perhaps,  now 
and  then  fortunate  for  all  concerned.  It  is  Grace  I  am  dis- 
appointed with." 

Coulthurst  smiled  somewhat  grimly.  "I'm  by  no  means 
sure  that  I  do  understand,  but  one  thing,  at  least,  is  plain : 
she  has  made  her  own  choice  and  must  abide  by  it." 

It  was  ten  minutes  later,  and  Mrs.  Esmond  had  left  him, 
when  he  came  upon  Grace  sitting  where  a  shrubbery  swept 
round  a  bend  of  the  lawn.  She  looked  at  him  deprecat- 
ingly. 


THE  NEW  COUNTRY  47 

"I  am  very  sorry — but  it  was  out  of  the  question — quite/' 
she  said. 

Coulthurst  made  a  little  gesture  of  resignation,  for  if  he 
seldom  foresaw  a  difficulty  where  others  would  have  done  so, 
he,  at  least,  made  no  futile  protest  when  it  had  to  be  faced. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "you  realize  what  you  have  turned 
your  back  upon  to-dav?" 

"Still,  I  felt  I  had  to  do  so." 

Coulthurst  checked  a  groan.  "Then,  since  you  presum- 
ably know  your  own  mind,  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
said.  You  will  be  ready  to  come  out  to  the  Northwest 
with  me?" 

Grace  rose,  and  slipped  her  hand  through  his  arm. 
"Father,"  she  said,  "I'm  sorry — dreadfully  sorry.  I  must 
be  a  horrid  responsibility." 

Coulthurst  smiled,  somewhat  ruefully.  "  So  am  I !  No 
doubt  we  will  worry  along  as  we  have  already  done ;  but  it 
is  a  very  hard  country  we  are  going  to." 

It  was  scarcely  a  sufficient  expression  of  what  he  felt, 
but  Coulthurst  had  his  strong  points,  and  his  daughter 
t  knew  it  was  very  unlikely  he  would  ever  allude  to  the  sub- 
ject again.  There  were,  however,  as  usual,  guests  at  Holt- 
car  Grange  just  then,  and  they  had  formed  a  tolerably 
correct  opinion  as  to  what  was  happening.  It  was  also 
natural  that  they  should  discuss  it,  and  on  that  evening  two 
matrons  and  the  lady  who  had  taken  Grace's  part  on  a 
previous  occasion  expressed  their  views  concerning  the 
conduct  of  the  latter. 

"The  girl  led  him  on  shamefully,"  said  one  of  them. 
"That  was  evident  to  everybody,  and  one  would  have  fan- 
cied the  reason  was  equally  so — though,  of  course,  we  know 
now  it  wasn't  the  right  one." 

Grace's  advocate  appeared  reflective,  and,  as  it  happened, 
her  opinion  was  usually  listened  to.  "I  have  watched  the 
girl,  and  she  is  interesting  as  a  study,"  she  said.  "I  am, 
of  course,  not  infallible,  but  it  seems  to  me  from  what  I 


48  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

have  heard  of  the  major  that  she  has  inherited  his  disre- 
gard of  consequences.  Coulthurst,  one  would  conclude,  is 
not  a  man  who  ever  saved  himself  or  others  trouble  by  an- 
ticipating anything." 

One  of  her  companions  signified  concurrence.  "And  the 
fact  that  the  opportunity  for  a  flirtation  with  the  most 
eligible  man  in  the  vicinity  appealed  to  her  natural  arro- 
gance accounts  for  the  rest?" 

"Not  exactly,  though  you  are  in  a  measure  right.  I 
should  rather  call  it  love  of  influence,  for,  though  I'm  not 
sure  Grace  Coulthurst  realizes  it,  one  could  fancy  that  the 
opportunity  for  dominating  a  man  of  position,  or  more 
especially  character,  would  prove  almost  irresistible  to  her. 
Still,  one  must  discriminate  between  that  and  the  not  un- 
usual fondness  for  love-making." 

"The  distinction  is  a  little  difficult.  It  seems  to  lead  to 
much  the  same  thing." 

The  previous  speaker,  who  was  a  woman  of  discernment, 
shook  her  head.  "There  is  a  difference,"  she  said.  "The 
girl  has,  I  think,  a  personality — by  which  I  do  not  alto- 
gether mean  physical  attributes — that  is  apt  to  appeal  to  a 
man  of  character,  though  I  almost  fancy  she  will  sooner  or 
later  be  sorry  she  was  ever  endued  with  it.  There  is  a  good 
deal  that  is  admirable  in  Grace  Coulthurst,  but  unfortun- 
ately, in  one  respect,  perhaps,  not — quite — enough." 

It  was  not  evident  that  the  rest  altogether  understood 
her,  but  Mrs.  Esmond  appeared  just  then,  and  the  subject 
was  changed  abruptly. 

In  the  meanwhile  there  were  at  least  three  people  who 
would  have  found  no  fault  with  Major  Coulthurst's  descrip- 
tion of  Western  Canada.  Having  discovered  somewhat  to 
their  astonishment  that  the  population  of  Quebec  and 
Montreal  was  already  quite  sufficient,  and  that  strangers 
without  means  were  not  greatly  desired  in  either  city,  these 
three  had,  in  accordance  with  Ingleby's  previous  purpose, 
started  West  again,  and  on  the  fifth  day  sat  spiritlessly  in 


THE  NEW  COUNTRY  49 

a  Colonist  car  as,  with  whistle  screaming,  the  long  train 
rolled  into  sight  of  a  little  desolate  station  on  the  Albertan 
prairie. 

All  the  way  from  Winnipeg  a  dingy  greyness  had 
shrouded  the  apparently  interminable  levels,  which  lay 
parched  and  white  beneath  an  almost  intolerable  heat,  while 
the  lurching  cars  swung  through  a  rolling  cloud  of  dust 
that  blurred  the  dreary  prospect.  Now,  as  they  were  slow- 
ing down,  grimy  faces  were  thrust  from  the  windows  and 
perspiring  men  leaned  out  from  the  platforms,  gazing  down 
the  track  and  inquiring  with  expletives  why  they  were 
stopping  again. 

Hetty  Leger,  however,  sat  languidly  still,  where  the  hot 
draught  that  blew  in  through  an  open  window  scattered 
the  dust  upon  her.  Her  face  was  damp,  and  unpleasantly 
gritty,  for  the  water  in  the  tank  had  long  run  out.  Her 
head  ached,  as  did  every  bone  in  her  body,  for  Colonist  cars 
are  not  fitted  as  the  Pullmans  are,  and  she  had  with  in- 
different success  for  four  nights  essayed  to  sleep  on  a  maple 
shelf  which  pulled  out  from  the  roof  above  when  one  wanted 
it.  She  had  certainly  hired  a  mattress,  but  its  inch  or  two 
of  thickness  had  scarcely  disguised  the  hardness  of  the 
polished  wood  beneath  it;  and  although  the  cost  of  it  and 
the  little  green  curtain  had  made  a  serious  inroad  on  the 
few  dollars  left  in  her  scanty  purse  they  had  not  solved 
the  problem  of  dressing;  while  the  atmosphere  of  a  close- 
packed  Colonist  car  when  the  big  lamps  are  lighted  in  hot 
weather  is  a  thing  to  shudder  at.  It  is  also,  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  most  of  the  passengers  dispense  with  curtains, 
somewhat  embarrassing  to  rise  in  the  morning  and  wait 
amidst  a  group  of  half-dressed  men  and  women  for  a  place 
in  the  cupboard  at  the  rear  of  the  ear  where  ablutions  may 
at  least  be  attempted  when  there  is  any  water  in  the  tank. 

Presently,  however,  a  big  bell  commenced  to  toll,  and  the 
jolting  of  the  air-brakes  flung  her  forward  in  her  seat,  while 
in  another  few  moments  the  long  cars  stopped,  and  the 


50  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

conductor  pushed  his  way  through  the  perspiring  passen- 
gers who  surged  towards  the  vestibule. 

"They've  had  a  big  washout  up  the  track,"  he  said. 
"You  can  light  out  and  admire  the  scenery  for  two  hours, 
anyway,  if  you  feel  like  it." 

Hetty  looked  round,  but  could  see  nothing  of  her  brother 
or  Ingleby.  She  had  seen  very  little  to  admire  at  other 
prairie  stations ;  but  anything  seemed  better  than  the  close 
heat  of  the  car,  and  when  the  vestibule  was  clear  at  last 
she  went  out  languidly  and  stepped  down  upon  the  track. 

Beside  it  rose  two  desolate  frame  houses,  a  crude  struc- 
ture of  galvanized  iron,  and  a  towering  water  tank,  but  that 
was  all,  and  beyond  them  the  gleaming  rails  ran  straight 
to  the  rim  of  the  empty  wilderness.  Nothing  moved  on  its 
interminable  levels;  the  dingy  sky  seemed  suffused  with 
heat,  and  along  the  track  a  smell  that  was  stronger  than 
the  reek  of  creosote  rose  from  the  baked  and  fissured  earth. 
The  withered  grass  was  of  the  same  tint  as  the  earth  save 
where  the  clay  on  the  bank  of  a  coulee  showed  a  harsh  red, 
and  the  vast  stretch  of  dusty  prairie  seemed  steeped  in  the 
one  dreary  grey.  This,  she  reflected  with  a  sinking  heart, 
was  the  land  of  promise  to  which  she  had  journeyed  five 
thousand  miles  to  find  a  home;  but,  though  the  track  was 
suggestively  littered  with  empty  provision  cans,  there  was 
as  yet  very  little  sign  of  the  milk  and  honey. 

Hetty  was  usually  sympathetic,  but  the  sight  of  the 
frowsy  passengers  and  unwashed  children  wandering  aim- 
lessly round  the  station  aroused  in  her  a  curious  impatience 
that  was  tinged  with  disgust  that  hot  afternoon.  She 
wanted  to  be  alone,  and  noticing  an  ugly  trestle  bridge  a 
mile  or  so  ahead  followed  the  rails  until  she  came  to  it.  A 
river  swirled  beneath  it;  but  it,  too,  was  utterly  devoid  of 
beauty,  for  the  banks  of  it  were  crumbling  sun-baked  clay, 
and  it  swept  by  a  dingy,  slatey  green,  thick  with  the  mud 
brought  down  by  the  Eockies'  glaciers.  However,  it  looked 
cool,  and  she  climbed  down  until  she  found  a  place  she  could 


THE  NEW  COUNTRY  51 

stand  on,  and  laved  her  arms  and  face  in  it.  Then,  as  it 
happened,  a  piece  of  the  crumbling  clay  broke  away,  and 
one  foot  slipped  in  above  the  ankle,  while  the  skirt  of  her 
thin  dress  trailed  in  the  water  too.  It  was  a  trifling  mis- 
hap, but  Hetty  was  overwrought,  and  when  she  had  climbed 
back  and  taken  off  and  emptied  the  little  shoe  she  sat  down 
on  the  dusty  grass  and  sobbed  bitterly.  She  felt  insignifi- 
cant and  lonely  in  that  great  empty  land,  and  its  desola- 
tion crushed  her  spirits. 

She  did  not  know  how  long  she  sat  there,  but  at  last 
there  were  footsteps  behind  her,  and  she  coloured  a  little 
and  strove  to  draw  the  shoeless  foot  beneath  the  hem  of 
the  dripping  skirt  when  she  saw  Ingleby  smiling  down  upon 
her.  Then  she  remembered  that  the  sleeves  of  the  thin 
blouse  were  still  rolled  back,  and  the  crimson  grew  plainer 
in  her  wet  cheeks  as  with  a  little  adroit  movement  she  shook 
them  down.  Ingleby  smiled  again,  in  a  complacent,  broth- 
erly fashion  which  she  found  strangely  exasperating  just 
then,  and  sitting  down  beside  her  took  one  of  her  hot  hands. 

"  Crying,  Hetty  ?    That  will  never  do,"  he  said. 

Hetty  glanced  at  him  covertly.  His  face  was  compas- 
sionate, but  there  was  rather  toleration  than  concern  in  it, 
and  she  pulled  her  hand  away  from  him. 

"I  wasn't — at  least,  not  exactly,"  she  said.  "And  if 
I  was,  it  was  the  weather — and  why  don't  you  go  away?" 

Ingleby  smiled  again,  in  a  manner  which  while  kind 
enough  had  yet  a  lack  of  comprehension  in  it  that  made 
her  still  angrier. 

"People  don't  generally  cry  about  the  weather,"  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  the  girl  sharply,  "some  of  them  say  things 
they  shouldn't.    I  heard  you — in  a  crowded  car,  too." 

She  stopped  abruptly,  as  she  remembered  the  scanty 
privacy  of  the  Colonist  train,  and  that  she  was  supposed 
to  have  been  asleep  about  the  time  Ingleby  had  allowed  his 
temper  to  get  the  better  of  him.    He,  however,  only  laughed. 


52  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Hetty,"  he  said,  "what  is  the  matter?  I  always  thought 
you  brave,  and  I  have  almost  a  right  to  know." 

"I  think  you  have,"  and  there  was  a  little  flash  in  Hetty's 
eyes.  "It  was  you  who  brought  us  here,  and  this  is  a  hor- 
rible country.    It  frightens  me." 

Ingleby  was  a  trifle  perplexed,  and  showed  it.  He  had 
known  Hetty  Leger  for  four  or  five  years,  and  had  never 
seen  her  in  a  mood  of  the  kind  before.  It  also  occurred  to 
him,  as  it  did  every  now  and  then,  that,  although  she  was 
not  to  be  compared  with  Miss  Coulthurst,  Hetty  was  in  her 
own  way  beautiful.  Just  then  a  pretty  plump  arm  showed 
beneath  the  unfastened  sleeve  of  the  thin  blouse,  and  the 
somewhat  dusty  hair  with  the  tint  of  pale  gold  in  it,  lying 
low  on  the  white  forehead,  matched  the  soft  blue  eyes, 
though  there  was  a  hint  of  more  character  than  is  usually 
associated  with  her  type  in  Hetty's  white  and  pink  face. 
Ingleby  noticed  all  this  with  impersonal  appreciation,  as 
something  which  did  not  greatly  concern  him. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I'm  sorry,  and  by  no  means  sure  I'm 
very  much  pleased  with  the  country  myself;  but  I  don't 
quite  see  what  else  I  could  have  done  in  the  circumstances. 
Still,  it  hurts  me  to  see  you  unhappy." 

Hetty  turned  to  him  impulsively.  "Never  mind  me. 
I'm  an  ungrateful  little — beast.  That's  the  fact,  and  you 
needn't  try  to  say  anything  nice — I  know  I  am.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  you  Tom  would  have  been  in  prison  now." 

Ingleby  looked  out  across  the  endless  dusty  levels.  "I'm 
sure  the  country  must  be  a  good  deal  better  than  it  looks — 
when  one  gets  used  to  it,"  he  said  a  trifle  dubiously.  "Any- 
way, we  are  three  to  one  against  it,  and  needn't  be  afraid 
of  it  while  we  stick  together.  That  is  the  one  thing  we 
must  make  up  our  minds  to  do." 

"There  was  a  time  when  you  didn't  seem  very  sure  you 
wanted  Tom  and  me." 

"Didn't  you  feel  that  I  was  right  a  little  while  ago?" 

Hetty  said  nothing  for  a  space.    She  was  quick-witted, 


THE  NEW  COUNTRY  53 

and  not  infrequently  understood  her  companion  rather 
better  than  he  understood  himself,  while  recollecting  the 
half -shy  delicacy  which  occasionally  characterized  him  she 
felt  a  trifle  comforted.  It  was  not,  she  fancied,  to  please 
himself  that  he  had  been  willing  to  leave  her  behind,  and 
she  watched  him  covertly  as  he,  too,  sat  silent,  gazing  at  the 
prairie  with  thoughtful  eyes.  He  was  not,  she  was  quite 
aware,  as  clever  as  her  brother,  and  he  certainly  had  his 
shortcomings — in  fact,  a  good  many  of  them;  but  for  all 
that  there  was  something  about  him  which,  so  far  as  she 
was  concerned,  set  him  apart  from  any  other  man.  Exactly 
what  it  was  she  persuaded  herself  that  she  did  not  know, 
or,  at  least,  made  a  brave  attempt  to  do  so,  for  it  was  evi- 
dent that  he  had  only  a  frank,  brotherly  regard  for  her. 
Still,  the  silence  was  getting  uncomfortable,  and  she  flung 
a  question  at  him. 

"How  much  have  we  left?"  she  asked. 

Ingleby  laughed,  somewhat  ruefully.  "Eight  dollars,  I 
believe.  Still,  we  shall  cross  the  Rockies  to-morrow,  and 
start  at  once  to  heap  up  riches.  We  are  certainly  going  to 
do  it,  as  others  have;  and  you  will  never  be  frightened  any 
more." 

Hetty  had  a  stout  heart  of  her  own,  but  nevertheless  she 
was  glad  of  the  reassuring  grasp  he  laid  upon  her  shouldjr 
as  she  looked  out  across  the  muddy  river  and  desolate,  grey- 
white  plain.  However,  she  smiled  at  him,  and  once  more 
they  sat  silent  until  a  curious  and  unexpected  thing  hap- 
pened. 

Far  away  on  the  rim  of  the  prairie  there  was  a  stirring 
of  the  haze,  and  a  dim  smear  of  pinewoods  grew  out  of  the 
dingy  vapour.  Then  a  vista  of  rolling  hills  rose  to  view, 
and  was  lost  in  mist  again,  until  high  above  them  all  a 
great  serrated  rampart  of  never-melting  snow  gleamed 
ethereally  against  a  strip  of  blue.  It  was  a  brief,  bewilder- 
ing vision,  sudden  as  the  shifting  of  a  gorgeous  transforma- 
tion scene,  and  then  the  vapours  rolled  down  again;  but 


54  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

they  felt  that  they  had  looked  -upon  an  unearthly  glory. 
Hetty  turned  to  her  companion  with  a  little  gasp. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "it  was  wonderful!" 

"It  was  real,  at  least,"  said  Inglehy.  "Your  first  glimpse 
of  the  country  to  which  I  have  brought  you.  I  think  we 
shall  be  happy  there — and  we  will  remember  afterwards 
that  we  saw  it  together." 

Again  the  little  pink  tinge  crept  into  Hetty's  cheek,  but 
she  said  nothing,  and  Ingleby's  glance  rested  on  the  shoe, 
which  he  had  not  noticed  before. 

"Hetty,"  he  said  severely,  "do  you  want  to  catch  cold? 
What  is  that  doing  there  ?" 

Hetty  essayed  to  draw  her  foot  farther  beneath  the  hem 
of  the  dusty  skirt,  and  the  colour  grew  a  trifle  plainer  in 
her  face ;  but  Ingleby  made  a  little  reproachful  gesture,  and 
taking  up  the  shoe  rubbed  it  with  his  handkerchief. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "I'm  going  to  the  bridge.    Put  it  on  !" 

He  turned  away ;  but  the  leather  was  stiff  with  water,  and 
Hetty  struggled  fruitlessly  with  the  buttons,  and  when  she 
rejoined  him  Ingleby  noticed  that  she  was  walking  some- 
what awkwardly. 

"Stand  still  a  minute,"  he  said.  "You  can't  limp  back 
along  the  track  like  that." 

He  dropped  on  one  knee,  and  Hetty  turned  her  face 
aside  when  he  looked  up  again. 

"It  is  such  a  pretty  little  foot,"  he  said. 

Then  as  they  went  back  together  they  met  Leger  on  the 
trestle.  He  said  nothing,  but  though  he  endeavoured  to 
hide  it  there  was  concern  in  his  sallow  face. 


VI 

HALL  SEWELL 

HP  HE  afternoon  was  clear  and  cool,  but  bright  sunlight 
filled  a  glade  among  the  towering  pines  which  creep 
close  np  to  the  western  outskirts  of  Vancouver  City.  They 
are  very  old  and  great  of  girth,  and  though  here  and  there  a 
path  or  carriage  drive  has  been  hewn  through  the  strip 
of  primeval  wilderness  the  municipal  authorities  have  been 
wise  enough  to  attempt  no  improvement  upon  what  nature 
has  done  for  them,  and  Stanley  Park  remains  a  pleasance 
whose  equal  very  few  cities  possess.  It  is  scented  am- 
brosially  with  the  odours  of  balsam  and  cedar ;  deep  silence 
fills  the  dim  avenues  between  the  colonnades  of  towering 
trunks;  and  from  every  opening  one  looks  out  upon  blue 
water  and  coldly  gleaming  snow. 

On  the  afternoon  in  question  the  stillness  was  rudely 
broken  by  a  murmur  of  voices,  unmodulated  and  sharp  with 
an  intonation  which  sounds  especially  out  of  place  in  the 
wilderness,  though  it  is  heard  there  often  enough,  from  the 
redwoods  of  Oregon  to  where  Alaskan  pines  spring  from 
ten  feet  of  snow.  A  crowd  of  people  were  scattered  about 
the  glade,  and  while  some  were  dressed  in  "store  clothes" 
and  a  few  in  coarse  blue  jean  the  eyes  of  all  were  turned 
towards  the  stump  of  a  great  cedar,  sawn  off  a  man's  height 
above  the  ground,  which  formed  a  natural  platform  for  a 
speaker  whose  address  had  astonished  most  of  them.  In- 
gleby  and  Leger  lay  a  little  apart  from  the  rest,  where  the 
sunlight  fell  faintly  warm  upon  the  withered  needles,  while 
Hettv  was  seated  near  them  upon  a  fallen  fir,  displeasure 

55 


56  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

in  her  eyes  and  her  lips  set  together.  Her  eyebrows  also 
seemed  unusually  straight,  as  they  often  did  when  she  was 
angry,  and  that  gave  to  her  delicately  pretty  face  a  curious 
appearance  of  severity  one  would  scarcely  have  expected  to 
find  there.  She  was  dressed  tastefully,  for  she  earned  a 
sufficiency  as  a  boarding-house  waitress. 

Ingleby,  who  lay  nearest  her,  looked  up  at  her  with  a 
little  smile. 

"You  would  make  rather  a  striking  picture  just  now, 
Hetty,"  he  said.  "That  is  a  most  attractive  frown.  I 
don't  know  where  you  got  it,  but  taken  together  with  your 
attitude  it's — I  can't  think  of  a  better  comparison — almost 
Roman." 

Hetty  glanced  at  him  sharply.  Her  education  had  not 
been  very  comprehensive,  and  she  scarcely  understood  the 
allusion;  but  Ingleby,  who  had  made  it  at  random,  was 
nevertheless  in  a  measure  right,  for  there  is  a  recurrent 
type  of  feminine  beauty,  not  exactly  common,  but  to  be 
met  with  among  women  of  her  station  in  the  north  of  Eng- 
land, while  they  are  young  at  least,  which  approaches  the 
classical.  Hetty  might  have  posed  just  then  as  a  virgin 
sitting  with  turned-down  thumb. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I'm  vexed  with  you  and  Tom,  as 
well  as  with  that  man.  I  wish  he  hadn't  come  now  when  we 
are  nice  and  comfortable  and  you  are  both  earning  good 
wages — at  least  when  the  steamers  come  in." 

Ingleby  shook  his  head  reproachfully.  "You  have  spoiled 
it,"  he  said.  "Hasn't  she,  Tom?  A  young  woman  who 
frowns  in  that  imperial  fashion  talking  of  wages!" 

Leger  only  laughed  as,  turning  over  among  the  fir- 
needles, he  filled  his  pipe  again ;  but  Hetty  was  still  a  trifle 
angry. 

"Of  course,  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said.  "I  never 
do,  but  it's  a  good  thing  I've  more  sense  than  either  of  you. 
Now,  you  know  what  came  of  listening  to  speeches  of  that 
.kind  in  England,  and  you're  doing  the  same  thing  again. 


HALL  SEWELL  57 

I've  no  sympathy  with  that  man.  Everybody  has  enough  to 
eat  and  looks  contented  and  comfortable.  Why  does  he 
come  here  Avorrying  them  ?" 

Leger  smiled.  "I'm  not  snre  that  the  contentment  of 
ignorance  is  the  blessing  some  people  would  like  us  to 
believe.  You  see,  when  one  doesn't  know  what  he's  en- 
titled to  he's  apt  to  be  satisfied  with  a'  good  deal  less,  while 
when  men  like  Hall  Sewell  point  out  that  you  don't  get 
half  as  much  as  you  ought  to  you  are  apt  to  believe  them." 

Ingleby  laughed,  though,  as  Sewell's  writings  had  stirred 
him  to  intense  appreciation,  even  in  England,  he  was  not 
altogether  pleased  with  the  little  twinkle  in  his  comrade's 
eyes.  He  was  quick  to  fire  with  enthusiasm,  while  it  oc- 
curred to  him  that  Leger  was  a  trifle  too  addicted  to  look- 
ing at  both  sides  of  a  question,  and  occasionally  admitting 
the  weak  points  of  his  own  case  with  dry  good-humour.  He 
had  also  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  Leger  was  a  cleverer  man 
than  himself. 

"Well,"  he  said,  looking  at  Hetty,  "if  you  are  content- 
to  carry  plates  to  saw-mill  hands  and  wharf-labourers,  it's 
more  than  I  am  to  see  you  do  so." 

"Why  shouldn't  I?"  and  Hetty,  who  flashed  a  covert 
glance  at  him,  noticed  the  tinge  of  heightened  colour  in 
his  face  and  was  not  displeased  at  it.  "They  are  all  of 
them  very  civil  to  me,  and  the  one  who  can  get  nothing 
to  do  as  a  doctor " 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Ingleby  curtly,  "I've  noticed  his  con- 
founded assurance.  Every  time  I  see  you  going  round 
with  his  dinner  I  feel  I'd  like  to  poison  him." 

Leger  looked  up  again  with  the  twinkle  in  his  eyes  show- 
ing plainer  still. 

"You  haven't  answered  her,  and  I'm  not  sure  you  can," 
he  said.  "She  put  the  whole  thing  in  a  nutshell  when  she 
asked — why  shouldn't  she." 

Ingleby  was  silent,  but  he  fidgeted,  and  Leger  grinned. 

"Don't  you  find  it  a  little  difficult  to  cling  to  aristo- 


58  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

cratic  prejudices — though  I  don't  know  how  you  became 
possessed  of  them — and  believe  in  democratic  theories  at 
the  same  time?"  he  said.  "One  would  fancy  they  were 
bound  to  run  up  against  each  other  occasionally." 

Just  then  an  urchin  with  a  satchel  on  his  back  came 
along. 

"Hall  SewelPs  latest  speeches,"  he  said.  "Fourth  edi- 
tion of  'The  New  Brotherhood'  and  'The  Grip  of  Capital/  " 

"Give  me  them  all,"  said  Ingleby.  "How  much  do  you 
want?" 

"A  quarter,"  said  the  lad,  handing  him  several  flimsy 
pamphlets,  and  while  Hetty  glanced  at  him  severely  Leger 
laughed. 

"Twenty-five  cents!"  he  said.  "It  would  have  pur- 
chased a  packet  of  caramels  for  Hetty." 

"We  might  manage  both,"  said  Ingleby.  "I'm  sorry 
I  didn't  think  of  it  earlier,  Hetty.  But  you  haven't  yet 
told  me  your  opinion  of  the  man  himself." 

Hetty  glanced  at  the  man  upon  the  fire-stump.  He  was 
dressed  as  a  workman  in  blue  jean,  which  seemed  to  her 
a  piece  of  affectation,  since  when  workmen  of  that  city 
take  their  recreation  they  usually  do  so  attired  in  excellent 
clothing;  but  he  had  a  lithe,  well-proportioned  figure,  and 
it  became  him,  though  neither  his  face,  which  was  bronzed 
by  exposure,  nor  his  hands  were  quite  in  keeping  with  it. 
It  was  a  forceful  face,  with  keen,  dark  eyes  in  it,  but  the 
mouth  was  hidden  by  the  long  moustache.  Hall  Sewell  was, 
in  his  own  sphere,  a  famous  man  whose  printed  speeches 
had  been  read  with  appreciation  in  Europe,  and  he  had  not 
long  ago  played  a  leading  part  in  a  great  labour  dispute. 
He  had  just  finished  speaking  and  another  man  was  some- 
what apologetically  addressing  the  assembled  populace. 

Hetty,  who  surveyed  him  critically,  shook  her  head.  "If 
you  buy  me  any  sweets  now  I'll  throw  them  away,"  she  said. 
"Well,  he's  a  good-looking  man." 


HALL  SEWELL  59 

"Oh,"  said  Ingleby.  "He's  good-looking!  Can't  yon 
get  beyond  that,  Hetty?" 

Hetty  pursed  her  lips  np  reflectively.  "Well,  why 
shouldn't  he  be?  It's  a  pleasure  to  see  a  man  of  that 
kind.  There  are  so  few  of  them.  Still,  I'll  try  to  go  a 
little  further.  Of  course,  he's  clever.  At  least,  everybody 
says  so,  but  there's  something  wanting.    I  think  he's  weak." 

"Weak !"  said  Ingleby  indignantly.  "You're  wide  of  the 
mark  this  time,  Hetty.  I've  read  every  line  he  has  had 
printed,  and  any  one  could  feel  the  uncompromising 
strength  in  it.  They've  put  him  in  prison  and  tried  to  buy 
him,  but  nothing  could  keep  a  man  of  that  kind  from  de- 
livering his  message." 

Hetty  still  pursed  her  lips  up,  and  when  she  spoke  again 
she  somewhat  astonished  Ingleby. 

"If  I  were  a  little  cleverer  and  richer  I  think  that  I 
could.    That  is,  of  course,  if  I  wanted  to,"  she  said. 

Leger  looked  up  with  a  little  whimsical  smile.  "I  hope 
she  isn't  right,  but  she  now  and  then  blunders  upon  a 
truth  that  is  hidden  from  our  wisdom.  Delilah  is,  after  all, 
a  type,  you  see,  and  one  can't  help  a  fancy  that  she  has 
figured  even  more  often  than  is  recorded  in  history.  Go 
on,  Hetty." 

Hetty  put  her  head  on  one  side.  "I  never  could  remem- 
ber very  much  history;  but  that  man's  vain,  vainer  than 
most  of  you,"  she  said.  "A  girl  above  him  who  pretended 
to  believe  in  him  could  twist  him  round  her  finger." 

"Above  him?"  said  Ingleby. 

Hetty  looked  at  him  curiously.  "Yes.  You  know  what 
everybody  means  by  that,  and  it's  generally  a  girl  of  that 
kind  that  men  with  your  notions  fall  in  love  with.  It's 
because  you  want  so  much  more  than  is  good  for  you  that 
you  have  such  notions." 

"Considering  that  she  is  a  girl  and  by  no  means  clever, 
Hetty's  reflections  occasionally,  at  least,  display  an  aston- 


60  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

ishing  comprehension,"  said  Leger.    "I  really  don't  mind 
admitting  it,  though  I  am  her  brother." 

Ingleby  said  nothing,  though  he  felt  uncomfortable. 
He  was  fond  of  Hetty  in  a  brotherly  fashion,  but  as  he 
had  never  supposed  her  to  be  indued  with  any  intellect 
worth  mentioning,  her  occasional  flashes  of  penetration 
were  almost  disconcerting.  The  last  one  was  certainly  so, 
for  there  were  two  people  of  diametrically  opposed  opin- 
ions whom  he  respected  above  all  others:  one  was  Hall 
•Sewell  the  reformer,  and  the  other  Major  Coulthurat's 
daughter.  He  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  for  changing  the 
subject  when  the  man  who  had  been  speaking  stopped  a 
moment  and  looked  at  the  crowd. 

"I  guess  I'm  through,  and  you  have  been  patient,  boys," 
he  said.  "Hall  will  be  quite  willing  to  answer  any  reason- 
able questions.    I'll  get  down." 

There  was  a  little  good-humoured  laughter,  and  a  man 
who  stood  forward  turned  to  the  assembly. 

"Everybody  knows  Jake  Townson,  and  there's  no  wick- 
edness in  him.  He's  a  harmless  crank,"  he  said.  "What  I 
want  to  ask  Hall  Sewell  is  who's  paying  him  to  go  round 
making  trouble  among  people  who  have  no  use  for  it  or 
him?    It's  a  straight  question." 

There  was  a  little  growl  of  disgust  as  well  as  sardonic 
laughter,  and  while  one  or  two  angry  men  moved  towards 
the  speaker  the  man  with  the  dark  eyes  stood  up  suddenly. 

"Let  him  alone,  boys.  We  don't  want  to  use  our  enemies' 
methods,  and  I'm  quite  willing  to  answer  him,"  he  said. 
"Nobody  has  paid  me  a  dollar  for  what  I've  tried  to  do 
for  the  cause  of  brotherhood  and  liberty,  but  I  was  offered 
a  thousand  to  betray  it  not  a  month  ago." 

"Name  the  men  who  did  it,"  cried  somebody. 

"I  will,"  said  Sewell,  "when  I  consider  the  time  is  ripe 
— they  may  count  on  that,  but  in  the  meanwhile  you  will 
have  to  take  my  word  for  it.  So  far,  I've  been  found  where 
I  was  wanted — and  that  as  our  friend  suggests  was  gener- 


HALL  SEWELL  61 

ally  where  there  was  trouble — but  I  never  took  five  cents 
for  reward  or  fee." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  approbation,  as  well  as  in- 
credulity, and  then  a  cry  broke  through  it. 

"How'd  you  worry  along  then?    A  man  has  got  to  live." 

Sewell  held  his  hands  up,  and  though  small  and  well- 
shaped  they  were  scarred  and  brown. 

"What  I  want — and  it's  very  little — I  can  earn  with  the 
shovel  and  the  drill.  I've  given  your  man  his  answer,  but 
I'm  going  farther." 

There  was  a  clamour  from  one  part  of  the  crowd.  "He's 
an  insect.  We've  no  use  for  him !  Let  up,  Hall's  talking. 
We're  here  to  hear  him  !" 

"What  did  I  get  for  my  pains?"  said  Sewell.  "That's 
what  the  question  comes  to,  and  I'll  tell  you  frankly,  since, 
until  we  or  our  children  bring  in  the  new  era,  if  s  all  that 
the  man  has  to  expect  who  believes  this  world  can  and  ought 
to  be  made  better.  I've  been  ridden  over  by  U.  S.  cavalry, 
and  beaten  by  patrolmen's  clubs.  I've  been  hounded  out  of 
cities  where  I  lawfully  earned  my  bread,  and  sand-bagged 
by  hired  toughs.  That  would  be  a  little  thing  if  I  were  the 
only  victim,  but  you  know — you  can  read  it  in  your  papers 
almost  any  day — what  happens  to  the  men  who  have  the 
grit  to  work  as  well  as  to  hope  for  the  dawn  of  better  day9 
for  down- trodden  humanity.  You're  to  wait  for  it — on 
the  other  side  of  Jordan — your  teachers  say.  Boys,  we 
want  it  here  and  now,  and  it's  coming,  a  little  nearer  every 
day.  You  have  got  to  believe  that,  and  when  the  outlook 
grows  black  get  a  tighter  clinch  upon  your  faith.  Was  it  a 
shadow  and  a  fancy  that  the  men  died  for  who  went  down 
in  every  struggle  for  the  last  ten  years? — we  needn't  go 
back  farther.  Right  across  this  prosperous  continent  youll 
find  their  graves — men  shot  and  sabred,  strung  to  bridges 
and  telegraph  poles.  Boys,  we've  been  waiting — waiting  a 
long  while " 

He  broke  off  abruptly,  for  a  little,  stolid  park-warden 


62  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

and  an  equally  unimpressed  official  of  the  Vancouver  police 
pushed  their  way  through  the  crowd. 

"I  guess,"  said  the  former,  "you'll  have  to  light  out  of 
this.    You  can't  hold  no  meetings  here." 

The  crowd  was  a  Canadian  one,  good-humouredly  toler- 
ant, respectful  of  constituted  authority,  and,  what  .was  more 
to  the  purpose,  reasonably  contented  with  their  lot.  They 
were  also,  as  usual,  somewhat  deficient  in  the  quick  enthus- 
iasm which  is  common  across  the  frontier.  Had  ample 
time  been  afforded  him  the  orator  might  have  got  hold  of 
them  and  impressed  upon  them  a  due  comprehension  of 
their  wrongs,  but  a  good  many  of  them  were  by  no  means 
sure  that  they  had  very  much  to  complain  of  as  yet.  Still, 
there  were  angry  expostulations. 

"Have  you  any  ground  for  preventing  my  speaking 
here  ?"  Sewell  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  warden.  "I  guess  we  have.  It's 
down  in  the  park  charter.  You  can't  peddle  those  papers 
either.    Call  your  boys  in." 

"The  men  who  made  those  laws,  as  usual,  made  them  to 
suit  themselves." 

"Well,"  said  the  warden,  "I  guess  that  don't  matter 
now.  There  they  are.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  keep  them, 
and  nobody's  going  to  worry  you." 

There  was  an  embarrassing  silence  for  a  moment  or  two, 
for  everybody  felt  the  tension  and  realized  that  the  position 
was  rife  with  unpleasant  possibilities ;  but  the  stolid  warden 
stood  eyeing  the  crowd  unconcernedly,  and,  as  usual,  the 
inertia  of  British  officialdom  conquered.  Sewell  made  a 
little  whimsical  gesture  of  resignation,  and  raised  his  hand. 

"I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  break  up,  boys.  There's  noth- 
ing to  be  gained  for  anybody  by  making  trouble  now,"  he 
said.  "If  we  can  hire  a  big  store  of  any  kind  I'll  talk  to 
you  to-morrow." 

He  sprang  down  from  the  stump,  the  crowd  melted  away, 
and  Hetty  laughed  as  she  glanced  at  her  companions. 


HALL  SEWELL  63 

"That  man  has  really  a  good  deal  more  sense  than  some 
people  with  his  notions  seem  to  have,"  she  said. 

Ingleby  shook  his  head  at  her.  "You  mean  people  who 
pull  gates  down  on  Sunday  afternoons  ?"  he  asked.  "  Still, 
I  scarcely  think  it  was  to  save  himself  trouble  he  told  them 
to  go  home,  and  nobody  could  have  expected  very  much 
S}Tnpathy  from  the  men  who  listened  to  him.  He's  wast- 
ing his  time  on  them — they're  too  well  fed.  What  do  you 
think,  Tom?" 

Leger,  who  did  not  answer  him  for  a  moment,  glanced 
thoughtfully  through  an  opening  between  the  stately  trunks 
towards  the  far-off  gleam  of  snow. 

"This  Province,"  he  said  drily,  "is  a  tolerably  big  one, 
and  from  what  I've  heard  they  may  want  a  man  of  his  kind 
in  the  Northern  ranges  presently.  It  isn't  the  supinely 
contented  who  face  the  frost  and  snow  there,  and  the  Crown 
mining  regulations  don't  seem  to  appeal  to  the  men  who 
stake  their  lives  on  finding  a  little  gold.  They  appear  to 
be  even  less  pleased  with  those  who  administer  them." 


VII 

HETTY  BEAES  THE  COST 

T  T  was  towards  the  end  of  the  arduous  day,  and  Ingleby 
was  glad  of  the  respite  the  breakage  of  a  chain  cargo- 
sling  afforded  him.  The  white  side  of  a  big  Empress  liner 
towered  above  the  open-fronted  shed,  and  a  string  of  box 
cars  stood  waiting  outside  the  sliding  doors  behind  him. 
A  swarm  of  men  in  blue  jean  were  hurrying  across  the 
wharf  behind  clattering  trucks  laden  with  the  produce  of 
China  and  Japan,  for  the  liner  had  been  delayed  a  trifle  by 
bad  weather,  and  the  tea  and  silk  and  sugar  were  wanted 
in  the  East.  Already  a  great  freight  locomotive  was  wait- 
ing on  the  side  track,  and,  as  Ingleby  knew,  the  long  train 
must  be  got  away  before  the  Atlantic  express  went  out  that 
evening.  He  had  been  promoted  to  a  post  of  subordinate 
authority  a  few  weeks  earlier,  and  both  he  and  Leger  were, 
in  the  meanwhile,  at  least  contented  with  their  lot,  for  the 
great  railway  company  treated  its  servants  liberally. 

There  was,  however,  nothing  that  he  could  do  for  a 
minute  or  two,  and  he  leaned  against  a  tier  of  silk  bales 
with  a  bundle  of  dispatch  labels  and  a  slip  of  paper  in  his 
,  hand,  while  Leger  sat  upon  the  truck  behind  him.  He  had, 
though  it  was  no  longer  exactly  his  business,  been  carrying 
sugar  bags  upon  his  back  most  of  that  afternoon,  partly  to 
lessen  the  labour  of  Leger  who  had  not  his  physique,  and 
now  the  white  crystals  glittered  in  his  hair  and  clung, 
smeared  with  dust,  to  his  perspiring  face.  His  sleeves  were 
rolled  back  to  the  elbow,  showing  his  brown  arms,  which  had 
grown  hard  and  corded  since  he  came  to  Canada ;  while  his 

64 


HETTY  BEARS  THE  COST  65 

coarse  blue  shirt,  which  was  open  at  the  neck  and  belted 
tight  at  the  waist,  displayed  as  more  conventional  attire 
would  not  have  done  the  symmetry  of  a  well  set-up  figure. 

"We  are  still  short  of  a  few  tea  chests,"  said  Leger. 
"However,  if  yon  would  mark  the  two  lots  I've  got  yonder 
we  could  clear  that  car  for  dispatch  as  soon  as  the  rest 
come  out." 

Ingleby  glanced  at  his  slip.  "I'll  wait  until  I  get  the 
others.  It  will  keep  the  thing  straighter.  There's  a  good 
deal  more  in  sorting  cargo  than  I  fancied  there  could  be 
until  I  tried  it,  and  it's  remarkably  easy  to  put  the  stuff 
into  the  wrong  car." 

,  "Then  it  might  be  well  to  keep  your  eye  on  those  chests 
of  tea.  I  can't  keep  the  boys  off  them.  There's  another 
fellow  at  them  now." 

Ingleby  swung  round,  and  signed  to  a  perspiring  man 
who  stopped  with  a  truck  beside  the  cases  in  question. 

"Leave  that  lot  alone!  It's  billed  straight  through, 
express  freight,  East,"  he  said.  "Stick  this  ticket  on  the 
cases,  Tom." 

Leger  moved  away,  and  Ingleby  was  endeavouring  to 
scrape  some  of  the  sugar  off  his  person  when  a  man,  whom 
he  recognized  as  one  of  the  leading  citizens  of  Vancouver, 
and  several  ladies,  came  down  the  steamer's  gangway. 
Then  he  started  and  felt  his  heart  throb  as  his  glance  rested 
on  one  of  them,  who,  as  it  happened,  looked  up  just  then. 
It  was  evident  that  she  saw  him,  and  he  was  unpleasantly 
sensible  that  his  face  was  growing  hot.  There  was,  he 
would  have  admitted  at  any  other  time,  no  reason  for  this, 
but  in  the  meanwhile  it  was  distinctly  disconcerting  that 
Grace  Coulthurst  should  come  upon  him  in  his  present 
guise,  smeared  with  dust  and  half-melted  sugar.  Then  he 
occupied  himself  with  his  cargo  slip,  for  it  was  in  the  cir- 
cumstances scarcely  to  be  expected  that  she  would  vouch- 
safe him  any  recognition. 

The  longing  to  see  her  again,  however,  became  too  strong 


66  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

for  him,  and  looking  up  a  moment  he  was  conscious  of  a 
blissful  astonishment,  for  she  was  walking  straight  towards 
him  with  a  smile  in  her  eyes.  She  seemed  to  him  almost 
ethereally  dainty  in  the  dust  and  turmoil  of  the  big  cargo 
shed,  and  for  the  moment  he  forgot  his  uncovered  arms  and 
neck,  and  felt  every  nerve  in  him  thrill  as  he  took  the  little 
gloved  hand  she  held  out.  What  she  had  done  was  not 
likely  to  be  regarded  as  anything  very  unusual  in  that 
country,  where  most  men  are  liable  to  startling  vicissi- 
tudes of  fortune  and  there  are  no  very  rigid  social  distinc- 
tions ;  but  Ingleby  failed  to  recognize  this  just  then,  and  it 
was  not  astonishing  that  he  should  idealize  her  for  her 
courage. 

"You  are  about  the  last  person  I  expected  to  meet. 
What  are  you  doing  here?"  she  said,  with,  the  little  tran- 
quil smile  that  became  her  well. 

Ingleby's  heart  was  throbbing  a  good  deal  faster  than 
usual,  but  he  held  himself  in  hand.  Miss  Coulthurst  was 
apparently  pleased  to  see  him,  but  there  was  an  indefinite 
something  in  her  serene  graciousness  which  put  a  check  on 
him.  It  was,  he  felt,  perhaps  only  because  she  was  patri- 
cian to  her  finger-tips  that  she  had  so  frankly  greeted  him. 
A  girl  with  less  natural  distinction  could,  he  fancied, 
scarcely  have  afforded  to  be  equally  gracious  to  a  wharf- 
labourer. 

"I  am  at  present  loading  railway  cars  with  tea  and  silk, 
though  I  have  been  carrying  sugar  bags  most  of  the  day," 
he  said. 

Grace  showed  no  sign  of  astonishment  as  she  glanced  at 
his  toiling  comrades,  and,  though  this  was  doubtless  the 
correct  attitude  for  her  to  assume,  Ingleby  was,  in  spite 
of  his  opinions,  not  exactly  pleased  until  she  spoke  again. 

"Don't  you  find  it  rather  hard  work?"  she  said.  "Of 
course,  one  cannot  always  choose  the  occupation  one  likes 
here,  but  couldn't  you  find  something  that  would  be  a  little 
more — profitable  ?" 


HETTY  BEARS  THE  COST  67 

Ingleby  laughed.  "I'm  afraid  I  can't,"  he  said.  "In 
this  city  the  one  passport  to  advancement  appears  to  be 
the  ability  to  play  in  the  band,  and  I  was,  unfortunately, 
never  particularly  musical.  Still,  there  is  no  reason  why  I 
should  trouble  you  with  my  affairs.  I  wonder  if  I  might 
venture  to  ask  you  how  you  came  to  be  here  ?" 

"It  is  quite  simple.  Major  Coulthurst  was  appointed 
Gold  Commissioner  in  one  of  the  mining  districts,  and  I 
came  out  with  him;  but  he  has  been  sent  to  an  especially 
desolate  post  in  the  Northern  ranges,  and  I  am  staying  with 
friends  in  the  city  for  a  week  or  two.  Then  I  am  going  to 
join  him." 

She  stopped  a  moment,  and  then  looked  at  him  reflec- 
tively. "Why  don't  you  go  North  and  try  your  fortune 
at  prospecting,  too?  They  have  been  finding  a  good  deal 
of  gold  lately  in  the  Green  Eiver  country  where  my 
father  is." 

It  had  seemed  to  Ingleby  almost  unnatural  that  he  should 
be  so  quietly  discussing  his  affairs  with  the  girl  he  had  last 
seen  nearly  six  thousand  miles  away.  This  was  not  the 
kind  of  meeting  he  would  have  anticipated ;  but  as  she  made 
the  suggestion  a  little  thrill  once  more  ran  through  him,  for 
he  had  heard  that  the  district  in  question  was  a  great  deso- 
lation, and  it  almost  seemed  that  she  desired  his  company. 
However,  he  shook  off  the  notion  as  untenable,  for  there 
would  be,  he  knew,  a  distinction  between  a  placer  miner 
and  the  Gold  Commissioner's  daughter  even  in  that  land 
of  rock  and  snow. 

"I  have  thought  of  it,"  he  said.  "Some  day  I  may  go, 
but  it  is  at  the  far  end  of  the  province,  and  for  one  who 
works  on  a  steamboat  wharf  the  getting  there  is  a  risky 
venture.    I  don't  suppose  everybody  finds  gold." 

"I'm  afraid  they  don't,  and  the  cost  of  transporting 
provisions  is  a  serious  matter  to  those  who  fail.  In  fact, 
some  of  them  have  been  giving  my  father  trouble.    They 


68  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

appear  to  lay  the  blame  of  everything  on  the  mining  regu- 
lations." 

She  stopped  and  glanced  at  him  with  a  little  smile. 
"From  what  I  remember  of  your  views,  you  would  no 
doubt  be  inclined  to  agree  with  them." 

Ingleby  laughed,  though  it  was  pleasant  to  be  told  that 
she  remembered  anything  he  had  said.  "I  really  fancy  I 
have  learned  a  little  sense  in  Canada,  and  I  am  not  going 
to  inflict  my  crude  notions  upon  yon  again.  Still,  there  is 
a  question  I  should  like  to  ask.  Did  Mr.  Esmond  of  Holt- 
car — recover  ?" 

Grace  noticed  the  sudden  intentness  of  his  tone,  and 
looked  at  him  curiously.  "Of  course.  In  fact,  he  got 
better  in  a  week  or  two,  and  I  think  behaved  very  gener- 
ously. The  police  could  not  induce  him  to  give  them  any 
information  about  the  men  who  injured  him." 

Ingleby  started,  and  the  girl  saw  the  relief  in  his  face. 

"I  wonder,"  he  said,  "if  you  ever  heard  who  they  were 
supposed  to  be?" 

Grace  turned  a  trifle  and  gazed  at  him  steadily,  though 
there  was  now  a  little  flash  in  her  eyes. 

"You,"  she  said,  with  incisive  coldness,  "were  one  of 
them?" 

Ingleby  grew  hot  beneath  her  gaze,  for  he  felt  that  all 
the  pride  and  prejudices  of  her  station  were  arrayed  against 
him.  "You  will  remember  the  form  of  my  question.  I 
was  supposed  to  be  one  of  them — but  that  was  all,"  he 
said. 

Grace's  face  softened,  and  she  glanced  at  her  companions, 
who,  after  waiting  a  little  while,  were  just  leaving  the  shed. 
"Of  course,"  she  said,  "I  should  have  known  it  was  absurd 
to  fancy  that  you  could  do  anything  of  that  kind." 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  kept  you,"  said  Ingleby.  "Perhaps 
I  should  not  have  abused  your  kindness  by  letting  you  stop 
at  all,  but  the  desire  to  see  you  was  too  strong  for  me.    I 


HETTY  BEARS  THE  COST  69 

wonder  whether  even  you  would  have  dared  to  do  as  mucK 
had  it  been  in  England?" 

There  was  a  faint  flush  in  the  girl's  cheek,  but  she  smiled 
as  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"I  scarcely  think  we  need  go  into  that,  and  I  can't  keep 
the  others  waiting  any  longer,"  she  said.  "Perhaps  I  shall 
meet  you  in  the  Green  Kiver  country." 

She  swept  away  with  a  soft  swish  of  dainty  garments, 
and  Ingleby,  whose  face  grew  curiously  intent  as  he  watched 
her,  climbed  the  slanting  gangway  to  the  deck  of  the  liner 
when  she  disappeared.  From  there  he  could  see  the  white 
tops  of  the  ranges  gleaming  ethereally  as  they  stretched 
back  mountain  behind  mountain  towards  the  lonely  North. 
The  Green  River  country  lay  far  beyond  them,  and  there 
were  leagues  of  tangled  forest,  and  thundering  rivers,  to 
be  crossed ;  but  that  day  the  untrodden  snow  he  gazed  upon 
seemed  to  beckon  him,  and  a  sudden  longing  to  set  out 
upon  the  long  trail  grew  almost  irresistible.  There  was 
gold  in  the  wilderness,  and  with  enough  of  it  a  man  might 
aspire  to  anything,  even  the  hand  of  a  Crown  Commis- 
sioner's daughter. 

Then  the  winch  beside  him  clattered,  and  he  shook  off 
the  fancies  as  a  fresh  stream  of  bales  and  cases  slid  down 
the  gangway.  Whatever  the  future  might  have  in  store, 
there  were  several  more  hours  of  arduous  work  in  front  of 
him  then.  One  of  them  had  passed  when  Leger  came  hast- 
ily up  to  him. 

"I  suppose  you  got  those  last  few  cases?"  he  said. 

Ingleby  started.  "I'm  afraid  I  never  remembered  them 
until  this  moment.    Have  they  pulled  the  car  out,  Tom?" 

"It's  not  there,  anyway.  I  fancied  you  had  made  the 
lot  up.    Somebody  has  put  those  cases  in." 

While  they  looked  at  one  another  the  tolling  of  a  loco- 
motive bell  broke  through  the  clatter  of  the  trucks,  and 
Ingleby  sped  towards  the  door  of  the  shed  with  Leger  close 
behind  him.    When  they  reached  it  the  hoot  of  a  whistle 


70  DELILAH    OF   THE    SNOWS 

came  ringing  down  the  track,  and  they  saw  the  great  loco- 
motive vanish  amidst  the  piles  of  lumber  outside  a  big 
sawmill,  with  the  long  cars  lurching  through  the  smoke 
behind  it.  Ingleby  said  nothing  then,  but  turned  back  into 
the  shed  with  his  lips  set  and  questioned  several  men 
before  he  looked  at  Leger. 

"Nobody  seems  to  know  whether  they  put  that  tea  into 
the  through  East  car  or  not,  and  it's  no  use  being  sorry 
now  we  didn't  see  it  done,"  he  said.  "The  sooner  we  have 
a  word  with  the  freight-traffic  agent  the  better." 

The  gentleman  in  question,  had,  however,  very  little  con- 
solation to  offer  them. 

"The  fast  freight  has  got  to  make  Kamloops  ahead  of 
the  Atlantic  express,"  he  said.  "She's  not  going  to  be 
held  up  more  than  ten  minutes  there,  and  they'll  have  the 
mountain  loco  ready  to  rush  her  up  the  loops  and  over  the 
Selkirks.  I'll  send  a  wire  along,  but  so  long  as  the  road  is 
clear  it's  going  to  be  more  than  any  man's  place  is  worth 
to  side-track  that  train  for  freight  checking." 

Ingleby's  face  grew  anxious.  "Well,"  he  said,  "what  is 
to  be  done?" 

"Nothing!"  said  the  traffic  manager.  "If  there's  any- 
thing wrong  with  your  sorting  you'll  probably  hear  about 
it  in  a  week  or  so." 

They  went  out  of  the  office,  and  Ingleby  turned  to  his 
comrade. 

"I'm  afraid  we'll  be  adrift  again  before  very  long,  and 
while  I  wish  you  had  seen  nobody  moved  those  cases,  it's 
my  fault,"  he  said.  "There's  another  thing  I  must  mention 
so  that  you  may  realize  all  you  owe  me.  That  was  Miss 
Coulthurst  of  Holtcar  to  whom  I  was  talking,  though,  of 
course,  I  should  have  been  attending  to  my  business  in- 
stead, and  from  what  she  told  me  it  seems  that  I  needn't 
have  brought  you  and  Hetty  out  here  at  all.  Esmond  got 
better  rapidly,  and  could  not  even  be  induced  to  prosecute." 

Leger  smiled.    "Well,"  he  said,  "I'm  uncommonly  glad 


HETTY  BEARS  THE  COST  71 

to  hear  it ;  and  in  regard  to  the  other  question  neither  of  us 
has  any  intention  of  blaming  you.  So  far,  we  have  been  a 
good  deal  better  off  than  we  probably  should  ever  have 
been  in  England." 

Nothing  further  was  said  about  the  affair,  though  both  of 
them  devoted  more  than  a  little  anxious  thought  to  it,  until 
one  morning  they  were  summoned  before  the  head  wharf- 
inger. 

"They're  raising  Cain  in  the  office  about  a  consignment 
of  tea  billed  through  urgent  to  the  East  that's  gone  down 
the  Soo  Line  into  the  States,"  he  said.  "I  guess  I've  no 
more  use  for  either  of  you." 

"I  can't  grumble,"  said  Ingleby,  who  had  almost  ex- 
pected this.  "Still  I  should  like  to  point  out  that  only 
one  of  us  is  responsible." 

"No,"  said  Leger.  "As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  were 
two,  and  if  there  hadn't  been  it  would  have  come  to  the 
same  thing,  anyway." 

The  wharfinger  nodded.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I'd  keep 
you  if  I  could,  but  after  the  circus  that's  going  on  about  the 
thing  it's  out  of  the  question.  I  guess  I'd  try  the  Green 
River  diggings  if  I  were  you." 

They  went  out  together,  and  when  Ingleby  was  about  to 
speak  Leger  checked  him  with  a  gesture.  "  I  think  I  know 
what  you  mean  to  say — but  there's  another  question  to  con- 
sider," he  said.  "Trade's  slack  in  the  city  just  now,  and 
taking  it  all  round  I  fancy  that  man's  advice  is  good.  If 
we  can  induce  Hetty  to  stay  here  we'll  try  the  new  mining 
country." 

In  different  circumstances  Ingleby  would  have  been 
exultant  at  the  prospect,  but  as  it  was  he  recognized  his 
responsibility.  It  was,  however,  late  that  evening  before 
they  were  able  to  lay  the  state  of  affairs  before  Hetty,  and 
Ingleby  was  almost  astonished  at  the  quietness  with  which 
she  listened. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "there's  no  use  worrying  about  it  now. 


72  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

rAll  you  have  to  do  is  to  try  the  mines.  The  man  who  came 
down  with  the  gold  yesterday  said  they  were  offering  five 
and  six  dollars  to  anybody  who  would  work  on  some  of  the 
claims." 

"But  you  don't  seem  to  realize  that  we  should  have  to 
leave  you  behind,"  said  Leger. 

Hetty  laughed,  and  flashed  a  covert  glance  at  Ingleby. 
"No,"  she  said,  "I'm  coming  with  you." 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other,  and  Leger  protested. 
"Hetty,"  he  said,  "it's  out  of  the  question.  You  couldn't 
face  the  snow  and  frost,  and  I  don't  even  know  how  we 
could  get  you  there.  There  are  forests  one  can  scarcely 
drag  a  pack-horse  through,  as  well  as  rivers  one  has  to  swim 
them  across,  and  we  should  probably  have  to  spend  several 
weeks  on  the  trail.  In  fact,  it  seems  to  be  an  appalling 
country  to  get  through." 

" Go  on !"  said  Hetty  drily.    "Isn't  there  anything  else ?" 

"There  are  certainly  mosquitoes  that  almost  eat  you 
alive.    You  know  you  never  could  stand  mosquitoes !" 

"Are  they  quite  as  big  as  bluebottles?"  said  Hetty. 

Leger  made  a  little  gesture,  and  glanced  at  Ingleby,  as 
if  to  ask  for  support,  but  though  Hetty's  brows  were  as- 
suming a  portentous  straightness  she  smiled  again. 

"Walter  was  anxious  to  leave  me  behind  once  before,  so 
you  needn't  look  at  him,"  she  said.  "In  fact,  there's  not 
the  least  use  in  talking.    I'm  coming." 

Ingleby  said  nothing.  He  did  not  wish  to  hurt  the  girl, 
though  he  fancied  he  knew  how  hard  she  would  find  the 
life  they  must  lead  in  the  great  desolation  into  which  they 
were  about  to  venture.  That  Grace  Coulthurst  was  going 
there  did  not  affect  the  question,  for  there  could  be  no  com- 
parison between  the  lot  of  a  prospector's  sister  and  that  of 
the  daughter  of  the  Gold  Commissioner.  Then  he  saw  that 
Hetty  was  watching  him. 

"Of  course  you  don't  want  me,  Walter,"  she  said. 

Ingleby  felt  his  face  grow  hot.    "  Hetty,"  he  said  simply, 


HETTY  BEARS  THE  COST  75 

"you  ought  to  know  that  isn't  so.  If  you  must  come  we 
shall  be  glad  to  have  you,  and  if  you  find  the  life  a  hard  one 
you  must  try  to  forgive  me.  If  I  had  known  what  I  was 
doing  I  might  have  spared  you  this." 

They  had  decided  it  all  in  half  an  hour,  but  Inglehy 
frowned  when  he  and  his  comrade  were  left  alone. 

"The  whole  thing  hurts  me  horribly,  Tom,"  he  said. 
"  Of  course,  we  can  worry  along,  and  may  do  well — but  you 
have  read  what  the  country  is  like — and  Hetty " 

Leger  appeared  unusually  grave.  "It  is,"  he  said,  "cer- 
tainly a  little  rough  on  Hetty.  She,  at  least,  was  not  to 
blame,  but  she  will  have  to  face  the  results  all  the  same, 
and  whatever  we  have  to  put  up  with  will  be  twice  as  hard 
on  her." 

Ingleby  said  nothing,  for  he  realized  his  responsbility. 
In  compensation  for  the  few  minutes  he  had  spent  with 
Grace  Coulthurst,  Hetty  Leger  must  drag  out  months  of 
privation  and  peril. 


VIII 

ON"  THE  TRAIL 

T"\ARKN"ESS  was  settling  down  upon  the  mountains 
and  the  chill  of  the  snow  was  in  the  air  when  Hetty 
Leger  and  Ingleby  sat  beside  a  crackling  fire.  Down  in  the 
great  gorge  beneath  them  the  white  mists  were  streaming 
athwart  the  climbing  pines,  and  no  sound  broke  the  deep 
stillness  but  the  restless  stamping  of  the  tethered  pack- 
horses  and  the  soft  splash  of  falling  water.  Hetty  had  a 
brown  blanket  rolled  about  her,  and  there  were  hard  red 
blotches  where  the  mosquitoes  had  left  their  virus  on  the 
hand  she  laid  upon  it.  Leger  lay  not  far  away,  and  his  face 
was  swollen,  but  Ingleby  had  escaped  almost  scatheless,  as 
some  men  seem  to  do,  from  the  onslaughts  of  the  buzzing 
legions  which  had  pursued  them  through  the  swampy 
hollows. 

A  blackened  kettle,  a  spider — as  a  frying-pan  is  usually 
termed  in  that  country — and  a  few  plates  of  indurated  fibre 
lay  about  the  fire,  for  the  last  meal  of  the  day  was  over, 
and  it  had  been  as  frugal  as  any  one  who  had  not  under- 
taken twelve  hours'  toil  in  that  vivifying  air  would  probably 
have  found  it  unappetizing.  Where  resinous  wood  was 
plentiful  Ingleby  could  make  a  fire,  but  he  could  not  catch 
a  trout  or  shoot  a  deer.  Indeed,  a  man  unaccustomed  to 
the  bush  usually  finds  it  astonishingly  difficult  even  to  see 
one,  and  provisions  were  worth  a  ransom  in  the  auriferous 
wilderness  into  which  they  were  pushing  their  way.  They 
had  spent  several  weeks  in  it  now,  travelling,  where  the  trail 
was  unusually  good,  eight  to  twelve  miles  a  day,  though 

74 


ON  THE  TRAIL  75 

there  were  occasions  when  they  made  less  than  half  the 
distance  with  infinite  difficulty,  and  Hetty  alone  knew  what 
that  journey  had  cost  her. 

The  white  peaks  that  gleamed  ethereally  high  up  in  the 
blue,  crystal  lakes,  and  the  endless  ranks  of  climbing  pines, 
scarcely  appealed  to  her  as  she  floundered  through  tangled 
undergrowth  and  ten-foot  fern,  or  stumbled  amidst  the 
boulders  beside  thundering  rivers.  She  had  lain  awake 
shivering,  with  the  ill-packed  fir  twigs  galling  her  weary 
body,  high  up  on  great  hill  shoulders,  and  fared  Spartanly 
on  a  morsel  of  unsavoury  salt  pork  and  a  handful  of  flour, 
while  Ingleby  set  his  lips  now  and  then  when  he  saw  the 
little  forced  smile  in  her  jaded  face.  It  was  no  great  con- 
solation to  reflect  that  other  women  in  that  country  had 
borne  as  much  and  more. 

"Walter,"  she  said,  "you  and  Tom  are  very  quiet.  I 
expect  you're  tired." 

Ingleby  smiled,  though  his  heart  smote  him  as  he  saw 
the  weariness  in  her  eyes. 

"I  certainly  am,"  he  said.  "Still,  we  can't  be  half  as 
worn  out  as  you  are.    You  were  limping  all  the  afternoon." 

"If  I  was  it  was  only  the  boot  that  hurt  me,"  said  Hetty. 
"All  those  loose  stones  and  gravel  made  it  worse,  you  see. 
How  many  miles  have  we  come  to-day?" 

"I  feel  that  it  must  have  been  forty,  but  you  shall  have 
a  rest  to-morrow ;  and  you  don't  look  as  comfortable  as  you 
ought  to  now.    Would  you  mind  standing  up  a  minute?" 

Hetty  rose,  hiding  the  effort  it  cost  her,  and  when  he  had 
shaken  up  the  cedar  twigs  into  a  softer  cushion  sank  grate- 
fully down  on  them.  Then  she  turned  her  face  aside  that 
he  might  not  see  the  little  flush  that  crept  into  it  as  he 
gravely  tucked  the  coarse  brown  blanket  round  her. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "I  think  that  ought  to  be  a  good  deal 
nicer.  You're  too  patient,  Hetty,  and  I'm  almost  afraid 
we  don't  take  enough  care  of  you." 

The  girl  saw  his  face  in  the  firelight,  and  sighed  as  she 


!76  DELILAH  OF  THE   SNOWS 

noticed  the  gentleness  in  it.  She  knew  exactly  how  far  his 
concern  for  her  went.  Leger  noticed  it,  but  his  shrewd- 
ness failed  him  now  and  then. 

"He  will  make  somebody  a  good  husband  by  and  by," 
he  said.  "She  will  have  a  good  deal  to  thank  you  for, 
Hetty." 

Ingleby  smiled  with  an  absence  of  embarrassment  which 
had  its  significance  for  one  of  the  party. 

"There  are,  after  all,  a  good  many  advantages  attached 
to  being  a  single  man,  and  I  shall  probably  have  to  be 
content  with  them,"  he  said. 

"Of  course!"  said  Hetty  softly.  "It  is  no  use  crying 
for  the  moon." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Nothing  in  particular,"  and  Hetty  glanced  reflectively 
at  the  fire.  "Still,  I  don't  think  you  would  be  content 
with  any  girl  likely  to  look  at  you,  and  most  of  us  would 
like  to  have  a  good  deal  more  than  we  ever  get." 

Ingleby  was  a  trifle  disconcerted,  though  Hetty  had  an 
unpleasant  habit  of  astonishing  him  in  this  fashion,  but 
Leger  laughed. 

"It  probably  wouldn't  be  good  for  us  to  have  it.  At 
least,  that  is  the  orthodox  view,  and,  after  all,  one  can 
always  do  without." 

"Of  course!"  said  Hetty,  with  a  curious  little  inflection 
in  her  voice.  "Still,  it  is  a  little  hard  now  and  then. 
Isn't  it,  Walter?" 

"Is  there  any  special  reason  why  you  should  ask  me?" 

Hetty  appeared  reflective.  "Perhaps  there  isn't.  I 
really  don't  know.  Do  you  hear  a  sound  in  the  valley, 
Tom?" 

They  listened,  and  a  beat  of  hoofs  came  out  of  the  sliding 
mists  below.  For  the  last  week  they  had  met  nobody  upon 
the  trail,  but  now  several  men  and  horses  were  apparently 
scrambling  up  the  hillside,  for  they  could  hear  the  gravel 


ON  THE  TRAIL  Tt. 

rattling  away  beneath  them.  The  sound  grew  louder,  and 
at  last  a  man  called  to  them. 

"Lead  that  beast  of  yours  out  of  the  trail,"  he  said. 

Ingleby  glanced  at  his  comrade,  for  the  voice  was  English 
and  had  a  little  imperious  ring  in  it,  and  Leger  smiled. 

"There  is  no  doubt  where  that  man  comes  from,  but  I 
scarcely  think  there's  Any  great  need  of  haste,"  he  said. 

"Do  you  mean  to  keep  us  waiting?"  the  voice  rose  again 
sharply.  "It's  some  of  your  slouching  prospectors,  Major. 
Get  down  and  cut  that  beast's  tether,  trooper." 

Ingleby  rose  and  moved  out  into  the  trail,  and  had  just 
led  the  pack-horse  clear  of  it  when  a  horseman  rode  up. 
He  was  dressed  in  what  appeared  to  be  cavalry  uniform 
and  was,  Ingleby  surmised,  that  worn  by  the  Northwest 
Police,  a  detachment  of  which  had  lately  been  dispatched 
to  the  new  mining  districts  of  the  far  North.  It  was  also 
evident  that  he  held  a  commission,  for  the  firelight,  which 
forced  it  up  out  of  the  surrounding  gloom,  showed  the  im- 
periousness  in  his  face.  It  also  showed  Ingleby  standing 
very  straight  in  front  of  him  with  his  head  tilted  back- 
wards a  trifle.  Then  there  was  a  jingle  of  accoutrements 
as  the  young  officer,  turning  half-round  in  his  saddle  with 
one  hand  on  his  hip,  glanced  backward  down  the  trail. 

"Look  out  for  the  low  branch  as  you  come  up,  sir,"  he 
said. 

Ingleby  stood  still,  nettled  by  the  fashion  in  which  the 
man  ignored  him,  for  no  freighter  or  prospector  would  have 
passed  without  at  least  a  friendly  greeting,  and  while  he 
waited  it  happened  that  Leger  stirred  the  fire.  A  brighter 
blaze  sprang  up  and  flashed  upon  the  officer's  accoutre- 
ments and  spurs,  and  then  there  was  a  pounding  of  hoofs, 
and  a  horse  reared  suddenly  in  the  stream  of  ruddy  light. 
The  officer  wheeled  his  beast  with  a  warning  shout,  but 
Ingleby  had  seen  the  shadowy  form  in  the  habit,  and  seized 
the  horse's  bridle. 


!78  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Hold  fast!"  he  said.  "There's  a  nasty  drop  just  out- 
side the  trail." 

Then  for  a  few  seconds  man  and  startled  horse  apparently 
went  round  and  round  scattering  fir  needles  and  rattling 
gravel,  until  the  half-broken  cayuse  yielded  and  Ingleby 
stood  still,  gasping,  with  his  hand  on  the  bridle,  while  a 
girl  who  did  not  seem  very  much  concerned  looked  down 
on  him  from  the  saddle. 

"You !"  she  said.  "I  fancied  the  voice  was  familiar.  So 
you  are  going  to  the  mines  after  all  ?" 

The  firelight  still  flickering  redly  upon  the  towering 
trunks  showed  Hetty  Leger  the  curious  intentness  in  In- 
gleby's  gaze.  Then,  having  done  enough  to  disturb  her 
peace  of  mind  for  that  night,  at  least,  it  sank  a  trifle,  and 
as  two  more  men  rode  out  of  the  shadow  the  officer  turned 
to  Ingleby. 

"Have  you  no  more  sense  than  build  your  fire  right 
beside  the  trail?"  he  asked. 

Ingleby  quietly  turned  his  back  on  him,  and  patted  the 
still  trembling  horse. 

"I  hope  you  were  not  frightened,  Miss  Coulthurst,"  he 
said. 

Grace  smiled  at  him,  but  before  she  could  speak  the 
young  officer  pushed  his  horse  a  few  paces  nearer  Ingleby. 

"I  asked  you  a  question,"  he  said. 

Ingleby  glanced  at  him  over  his  shoulder.  "Yes,"  he 
said  drily,  "I  believe  you  did." 

He  turned  his  head  again,  and  Hetty,  sitting  unseen  in 
the  shadow,  failed  to  see  his  face  as  he  looked  up  at  the  girl 
whose  bridle  he  held.  She  could,  however,  see  the  young 
officer  glancing  down  at  him  apparently  with  astonishment 
as  well  as  anger,  and  the  police  trooper  behind  sitting 
woodenly  still  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face,  until  a  burly 
man  appeared  suddenly  in  the  sinking  light.  Then  Grace 
Coulthurst  laughed. 

"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  ride  on,  Reggie?    I  told 


ON  THE  TRAIL  79 

you  my  opinion  of  this  horse,"  she  said.  "Father,  I  really 
think  you  ought  to  thank  Mr.  Ingleby." 

Major  Coulthurst  turned  suddenly  in  his  saddle. 

"Ingleby?"  he  said.  "Very  much  obliged  to  you,  I'm 
sure.    I  have  a  fancy  I've  seen  you  before." 

"I  once  had  the  pleasure  of  handing  you  a  cup  of  tea  at 
a  tennis  match  at  Holtcar." 

Coulthurst  laughed.  "Yes,"  he  said.  "I  remember  it 
now,  especially  as  it  was  a  remarkably  hot  day  and  I  would 
a  good  deal  sooner  have  had  a  whisky-and-soda.  Still,  I've 
seen  you  somewhere  since  then,  haven't  I  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Ingleby  drily.  "On  a  Sunday  after- 
noon— at  Willow  Dene." 

Coulthurst  laughed  again,  good-humouredly.  "  Of  course 
I  remember  that,  too,  though  I  hope  you've  grown 
out  of  your  fondness  for  taking  liberties  with  other  people's 
property.  That  kind  of  thing  is  still  less  tolerated  in  this 
country.  In  the  meanwhile  we  have  a  good  way  to  go  before 
we  camp.    Once  more,  I'm  much  obliged  to  you." 

He  touched  his  horse  with  the  spur,  and  when  he  and  the 
troopers  melted  into  the  night  Ingleby  turned,  with  one 
hand  closed  a  trifle  viciously,  towards  the  fire. 

"Major  Coulthurst  is  human,  anyway,  but  the  other 
fellow's  insolence  made  me  long  to  pull  him  off  his  horse," 
he  said.  "Is  there,  after  all,  any  essential  difference  be- 
tween an  officer  of  the  Northwest  Police  and  a  mineral 
claim  prospector  ?" 

"One  can't  help  admitting  that  in  some  respects  there 
seems  to  be  a  good  deal,"  said  Leger  drily.  "Still,  I 
should  scarcely  fancy  the  Canadian  ones  are  likely  to  be 
so  unpleasantly  sensible  of  it.  The  gentleman  in  question 
was  apparently  born  in  England." 

"Where  else  could  you  expect  a  man  of  his  kind  to  come 
from?"  and  Ingleby  kicked  a  smouldering  brand  back  into 
the  fire.    "I  fancied  we  had  left  that  languid  supercilious- 


80  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

ness  behind  us.  It's  galling  to  run  up  against  it  again 
here." 

"My  uncle's  spirit  in  these  stones!"  said  Leger.  "Still, 
aren't  you  getting  a  little  too  old  now  to  run  a  tilt  against 
the  defects  of  the  national  character?  One  feels  more 
sure  of  doing  it  effectively  when  he's  younger." 

Ingleby  laughed,  for  his  ill  humour  seldom  lasted  long. 
"I  suppose  nobody  can  help  being  an  ass  now  and  then, 
and,  after  all,  the  best  protest  is  the  sure  and  silent  kick 
when  people  who  treat  you  like  one  unnecessarily  add  to 
your  burden.  Anyway,  that  trooper's  grin  was  soothing. 
It  suggested  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  human  nature 
under  his  uniform." 

"I  was  looking  at  the  officer  man,  and  scarcely  noticed 
him.  It  occurred  to  me  that  the  attitude  you  complain  of 
probably  runs  in  the  family." 

"I  can't  say  I  understand  you." 

"Well,"  said  Leger  reflectively,  "I  can't  help  a  fancy 
that  we  once  met  somebody  very  like  him  on  another  oc- 
casion when  we  both  lost  our  temper." 

"At  Willow  Dene?" 

"Exactly!"  said  Leger.  "You  can  think  it  over.  I'll 
wash  the  plates  at  the  creek  and  get  some  water." 

He  turned  away,  leaving  Ingleby  considerably  astonished 
and  half-persuaded  that  he  was  right.  The  latter  was  still 
looking  into  the  darkness  when  Hetty  spoke  to  him. 

"It's  not  worth  worrying  about.  Come  and  sit  down," 
she  said.    "Who  was  that  girl,  Walter?" 

"Miss  Coulthurst,"  said  Ingleby. 

Hetty  moved  a  little  so  that  the  firelight  no  longer  fell 
upon  her,  and  Ingleby  noticed  that  she  was  silent  a  some- 
what unusual  time.  Then  she  asked,  "The  girl  you  used 
to  plav  tennis  with  at  Holtcar?" 

"Yes." 

Hetty  wished  that  she  could  see  his  face.  "You  have 
met  her  before  in  Canada?" 


ON  THE  TRAIL  81 

"Once  only.  On  the  Vancouver  wharf,  the  day  I  let 
them  put  the  tea  into  the  wrong  car.  She  was  coming 
from  the  steamer." 

Hetty's  face  grew  a  trifle  hard  for  a  moment  as  she  made 
a  tolerably  accurate  guess  at  the  cause  of  his  neglect  on 
the  afternoon  in  question.  Then  with  a  sudden  change  of 
mood  she  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  arm. 

"Don't  you  think  it  would  have  been  better  for  every- 
body if  she  had  stayed  in  England,  Walter?" 

"I  expect  it  would  have  been  for  Tom  and  you.  If  I 
had  remembered  what  my  business  on  the  wharf  was  I 
should  never  have  brought  all  this  upon  you." 

Hetty's  hand  closed  almost  sharply  on  his  arm.  "No," 
she  said,  "I  don't  mean  that.  You  see,  I  was  really  glad 
to  get  away  from  the  boarding  house." 

"  You  assured  me  you  liked  it  once,"  said  Ingleby. 

"Well,  perhaps  I  did,  but  we  needn't  go  into  that.  I 
was  thinking  of  you  just  now." 

Ingleby  would  not  pretend  to  misunderstand  her.  He 
felt  it  would  probably  be  useless,  for  Hetty,  he  knew,  could 
be  persistent. 

"Men  get  rich  in  this  country  now  and  then,"  he  said. 
"It  would,  at  least,  be  something  to  work  and  hope  for." 

He  could  not  see  Hetty's  face,  but  he  noticed  that  there 
was  a  faint  suggestion  of  strain  in  her  voice. 

"Do  you  think  she  would  ever  be  happy  with  you  even 
if  you  found  a  gold  mine  ?"  she  said. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Hetty?"  and  Ingleby  turned  to- 
wards her  suddenly  with  a  flush  in  his  face. 

"I  only  want  to  save  you  trouble.  Don't  you  think  when 
a  girl  of  that  kind  found  out  how  much  there  was  that  she 
had  been  accustomed  to  think  necessary  and  that  you  knew 
nothing  about,  she  might  remember  the  difference  between 
herself  and  you.  After  all,  it's  not  always  the  most  im- 
portant points  that  count  with  a  girl,  you  know." 

She  stopped  somewhat  abruptly,  but  Ingleby  made  a 


82  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

little  gesture.  "I  would  rather  you  would  go  on  and  say 
all  you  mean  to." 

"Well,"  said  Hetty  reflectively,  "if  I  had  been  rich  I 
think  I  should  like  the  man  I  married  to  do  everything — 
even  play  cards  and  billiards  and  shoot  pheasants — as  well 
as  my  friends  did.  It  wouldn't  be  nice  to  feel  that  I  had 
to  make  excuses  for  him,  and  I'm  not  sure  I  wouldn't  be 
vexed  if  he  didn't  seem  to  know  all  about  the  things  folks 
of  that  kind  get  for  dinner." 

Ingleby's  laugh  was  a  protest,  but  it  was  only  half- 
incredulous,  for  he  had  now  and  then  realized  with  bitter- 
ness the  deference  paid  to  conventional  niceties  in  England. 

"You  can't  believe  that  would  trouble  any  sensible 
woman?"  he  said. 

"Well,"  answered  Hetty,  "perhaps  it  mightn't,  for  a  little 
while,  or  if  there  was  only  one  thing,  you  see — but  if  you 
put  everything  together  and  kept  on  doing  what  jarred 
on  her?" 

"One  could  get  somebody  to  teach  him." 

Hetty  laughed.  "To  be  like  the  officer  man,  or  Mr. 
Esmond  of  Holtcar?" 

Ingleby  understood  the  significance  of  the  question. 
The  little  conventional  customs  might  be  acquired,  but 
the  constant  jarring  of  opinion,  and  absence  of  compre- 
hending sympathy  or  a  common  point  of  view  was,  he  real- 
ized, quite  a  different  thing.  Still,  though  there  was 
concern  in  his  face,  he  had  the  hope  of  youth  in  him. 
There  was  silence  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  Hetty 
spoke  again. 

"Besides,"  she  said,  "after  all,  aren't  gold  mines  a  little 
hard  to  find?" 

Just  then  Leger  made  his  appearance,  somewhat  to 
Ingleby's  relief,  and  ten  minutes  later  Hetty  retired  to 
the  tent  while  the  men,  rolling  themselves  in  their  blankets, 
lay  down  upon  the  cedar  twigs  beside  the  fire.  One  of 
them,  however,  did  not  sleep  as  well  as  usual,  and  Leger 


ON  THE  TRAIL  83 

noticed  that  his  sister  appeared  a  little  languid  when  she 
rose  in  the  morning.  They  were  weary  still,  and  it  was 
afternoon  when  they  once  more  pushed  on  into  the  wilder- 
ness along  the  climbing  trail  that  had  for  guide-posts  empty 
provision  cans. 


IX 

HETTY  FINDS  A  WAY 

'T*  HE  day's  work  was  over,  and  once  more  the  white  mists 
were  streaming  athwart  the  pines  when  Ingleby  lay 
somewhat  moodily  outside  the  tent  that  he  and  Leger  oc- 
cupied on  the  hillside  above  the  Green  Eiver.  Just  there 
the  stream  swirled,  smeared  with  froth  and  spume,  through 
a  tremendous  hollow  above  which  the  mountains  lifted  high 
their  crenellated  ramparts  of  ice  and  never-melting  snow. 
Still,  though  usually  termed  one,  that  gorge  was  not  a 
canon  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  for  a  sturdy  climber 
could  scale  one  side  of  it  through  the  shadow  of  the  clinging 
pines,  and  there  was  room  for  a  precarious  trail,  the  one 
road  to  civilization,  between  the  hillside  and  the  thundering 
river. 

Farther  back,  the  valley  opened  out,  and  up  and  down 
it  were  scattered  the  Green  Eiver  diggings.  From  its 
inner  end  an  Indian  trail,  which  as  yet  only  one  or  two 
white  men  had  ever  trodden,  led  on  to  the  still  richer 
wilderness  that  stretched  back  to  the  Yukon.  Above  the 
tent  stood  a  primitive  erection  of  logs  roofed  with  split 
cedar  and  hemlock  bark  which  served  at  once  as  store  and 
Hetty's  dwelling.  She  was  busy  inside  it  then,  for  Ingleby 
could  hear  the  rattle  of  cooking  utensils  and  listened  ap- 
preciatively, for  he  was  as  hungry  as  usual,  although  dis- 
pirited. His  limbs  ached  from  a  long  day's  strenuous  toil, 
and  the  stain  of  the  soil  was  on  his  threadbare  jean.  He 
and  Leger  had  spent  a  good  many  weeks  now  upon  a  placer 

84 


HETTY  FINDS  A  WAY  85 

claim,  and  the  result  of  their  labours  was  a  few  grains  of 
gold. 

He  rose,  however,  when  Hetty  came  out  of  the  shanty  and 
stood  looking  down  into  the  misty  valley.  She  was  im- 
maculately neat,  as  she  generally  was,  even  in  that  desola- 
tion divided  by  a  many  days'  journey  from  the  nearest  dry- 
goods  store  and  where  the  only  approach  to  a  laundry  was 
an  empty  coal-oil  can,  and  she  turned  to  Ingleby  with  a 
little  smile  in  her  eyes.  Hetty  had  her  sorrows,  and  the 
life  she  led  would  probably  have  been  insupportable  to 
most  women  reared  in  an  English  town,  but  she  had  long 
been  accustomed  to  turn  a  cheerful  face  upon  a  very  hard 
world,  and  Ingleby,  though  he  did  not  know  exactly  why, 
felt  glad  that  she  was  there.  There  are  women  who  pro- 
duce this  effect  on  those  they  live  among,  and  they  are 
seldom  the  most  brilliant  ones.  Still,  he  did  not  speak, 
for  Hetty  Leger  was  not  a  young  woman  who  on  all  oc- 
casions demanded  attention. 

"No  sign  of  Tom!"  she  said. 

"No,"  said  Ingleby.  "I  only  hope  he  brings  something 
with  him,  and  hasn't  lost  the  flies  again.  I  gave  a  man 
who  went  out  a  dollar  each  for  them,  and  I  couldn't  get 
another  if  I  offered  ten.  The  plain  hooks  I  got  in  Van- 
couver are  no  use  either  when  there  apparently  isn't  a 
worm  in  the  country." 

Hetty  smiled,  though  there  were  reasons  why  a  trout  fly 
was  worth  a  good  deal  to  them,  and  one  of  them  became 
apparent  when  she  glanced  at  the  empty  spider  laid  beside 
the  fire,  which  burned  clear  and  red  between  two.  small  logs 
laid  parallel  to  each  other  and  about  a  foot  apart. 

"If  he  doesn't  you'll  have  to  put  up  with  bread  and  dried 
apples.    The  pork's  done,"  she  said. 

It  was,  perhaps,  not  the  kind  of  conversation  one  would 
have  expected  from  a  man  at  an  impressionable  age  and  a 
distinctly  pretty  girl,  especially  when  they  stood  alone  in 
such  a  scene  of  wild  grandeur  as  few  men's  eyes  have  looked 


86  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

upon,  but  Hetty  did  not  appear  to  consider  it  in  any  way 
out  of  place.  Indeed,  though  there  had  been  a  time  when 
she  had  accepted  Ingleby's  compliments  with  a  smile  and 
even  became  a  trifle  venturesome  in  her  badinage,  there  had 
been  a  difference  since  they  left  England,  and  while 
Ingleby  did  not  realize  exactly  what  that  difference  was  he 
felt  that  it  was  there.  Hetty  Leger  had  not  enjoyed  any 
of  the  training  which  is,  usually,  at  least,  bestowed  upon 
young  women  of  higher  station;  but  she  had  discovered 
early  that,  as  she  expressed  it,  there  is  no  use  in  crying  for 
the  moon,  and  she  had  a  certain  pride.  It  was  also  a  whole- 
some one  and  untainted  by  petulance  or  mortified  vanity. 

"I  don't  think,"  she  said  reflectively,  "I  would  worry  too 
much  about  those  flies." 

"No?"  said  Ingleby.  "Nobody  could  have  called  that 
pork  good ;  but  dried  apples  ad  libitum  are  apt  to  pall  on 
one." 

Hetty  shook  her  head.  "I'm  afraid  they're  not  even 
going  to  do  that,"  she  said.  "There's  very  few  of  them 
left  in  the  bottom  of  the  bag." 

Just  then  Leger  appeared,  carrying  a  fishing-rod  which 
Ingleby  had  laboriously  fashioned  out  of  a  straight  fir 
branch.  He  had  also  a  string  of  trout,  but  was  apparently 
dripping  below  the  knees  and  somewhat  disconsolate.  The 
trout  were  dressed  ready,  and  he  laid  two  or  three  of  them 
in  the  pan,  and  then  sat  down  upon  one  of  the  hearth  logs. 

"I  expect  that's  the  last  we'll  get,"  he  said. 

"You  haven't  whipped  those  flies  off?"  said  Ingleby. 

Leger  nodded  ruefully.  "I'm  afraid  I  have,"  he  said. 
"At  least,  I  let  them  sink  in  an  eddy  and  hooked  a  boulder. 
It  comes  to  very  much  the  same  thing." 

Hetty  laughed  as  she  saw  Ingleb)r's  face.  "Perhaps  I'd 
better  go  away,"  she  said.  "Aren't  there  times  when  it 
hurts  you  to  be  quiet?" 

"There  are,"  said  Ingleby  drily.    "This  is  one  of  them." 

"Well,"  said  Hetty,  "you  can  talk  when  you  break  out. 


HETTY  FINDS  A  WAY  87) 

I  heard  you  one  night  in  the  car — but  we'll  get  supper,  and 
then  if  you're  very  good  I'll  show  you  something." 

She  stirred  the  fire,  and  laid  out  the  inevitable  dried 
apples  and  a  loaf  of  bread  which  was  not  exactly  of  the 
kind  somewhat  aptly  termed  grindstone  in  that  country. 
Then  when  the  edge  of  their  hunger  was  blunted  she  took 
out  a  very  diminutive  fluffy  object  and  handed  it  to  Ingleby. 

"I  wonder  if  the  trout  would  be  silly  enough  to  jump  at 
that,"  she  said.  "It's  a  little  plumper  than  the  other  ones, 
but  I  hadn't  any  silk  to  tie  it  with." 

Ingleby  stared  at  the  fly  in  blank  astonishment,  and  then 
gravely  passed  it  to  Leger. 

"Look  at  that,  and  be  thankful  you  have  a  sister,"  he 
said. 

"I  am,"  said  Leger  with  a  little  smile,  though  something 
in  his  voice  suggested  that  he  meant  it.  "But  whatever 
did  you  make  it  out  of,  Hetty?" 

"Strips  of  frayed-out  cloth,  the  blue  grouse's  feathers, 
and  the  very  little  threads  there  are  in  a  piece  of  cotton 
when  you  unwind  it." 

"The  tail  was  never  made  of  feathers  or  cotton,"  said 
Ingleby.  "No  more  was  this  wing  hackle.  That's  quite 
sure.    Look  at  it,  Tom.    You'll  notice  the  bright  colour." 

Hetty  unwisely  snatched  at  the  fly,  but  Leger's  hand 
closed  upon  it,  and  a  moment  or  two  later  he  laughed  softly. 
"It  certainly  won't  come  out  in  the  water,  and  that  is 
presumably  more  than  could  be  said  of  everybody's  hair." 

Ingleby  took  the  fly  from  him,  and  Leger  proceeded. 
"Now  we  have  got  over  that  difficulty  there  is  another  to 
consider." 

"There  generally  is,"  said  Hetty. 

"This  one  is  serious,"  said  her  brother.  "One  can  no 
more  live  upon  trOut  and  nothing  else  than  he  can  upon 
dried  apples,  and  while  the  flour  is  running  out  we  have 
neither  dollars  nor  dust  to  buy  any  more  with.  Our  friend 
the  freighter  cannot  be  induced  to  grub-stake  everybody, 


88  DELILAH  OF   THE   SNOWS 

and  I'm  not  sure  one  could  blame  him  for  asking  five  or  six 
times  as  much  for  his  provisions  as  they  are  worth  in  the 
cities  when  you  consider  the  nature  of  the  trail.  Of  course, 
Walter  and  I  could  earn  a  few  dollars  at  Tomlinson's 
mine." 

He  stopped,  and  looked  at  Ingleby,  whose  face  grew  a 
trifle  grave. 

"A  placer  claim,"  said  the  latter,  "can  only  he  held 
while  you  work  upon  it  continuously." 

"Exactly!  Seventy-two  hours  after  we  lay  down  the 
shovel  any  other  man  who  thinks  it  worth  while  can  seize 
upon  our  last  chance  of  making  a  fortune.  I  think  you 
understand  that,  considering  the  present  cost  of  provisions, 
we  are  scarcely  likely  to  save  as  much  as  would  keep  us 
while  we  try  again,  out  of  what  we  make  on  Tomlinson's 
claim." 

Ingleby  realized  this  and  said  nothing.  The  giving  up 
of  his  claim  implied  the  parting  with  certain  aspirations 
which  had  of  late  supported  him  through  long  days  of 
feverish  toil ;  but  one  must  live,  and  he  had  discovered  that 
to  work  as  the  free  miners  do  in  that  country  a  somewhat 
ample  diet  is  necessary.  He  sat  near  the  fire,  and  Hetty, 
who  saw  the  hardness  of  his  face,  understood  it. 

"You  really  think  there  is  gold  in  the  claim?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Ingleby.  "Tomlinson  and  one  or  two  of  the 
others  who  have  played  this  game  half  their  lives  admitted 
that  the  signs  were  as  good  as  any  they  had  seen.  Still, 
I'm  by  no  means  sure  we  can  hold  out.  until  we  strike  it." 

Hetty  smiled  in  a  curious  fashion.  "Especially  while  you 
have  me  to  keep?" 

Even  Leger  appeared  astonished,  and  Ingleby  flushed 
hotly  as  he  turned  to  her.  "Hetty,"  he  said  sternly, 
"what  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

The  girl  laughed,  and  pointed  to  the  loaf.  "That  is  nice 
bread?" 


HETTY  FINDS  A  WAY  89 

"It  is,"  said  Ingleby.  "Still,  I  don't  see  what  that  has 
to  do  with  it." 

"There's  no  bread  like  it  in  the  Green  Eiver  country," 
persisted  Hetty.  "They  taught  me  to  bake  at  the  board- 
ing-house.   I  made  it." 

Ingleby  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  "Go  on,"  he 
said.    "I'll  wait  a  little." 

"Well,"  and  though  Hetty  spoke  quietly  her  voice  was 
not  quite  her  usual  one,  "what  are  you  and  Tom  longing 
for  just  now  more  than  anything?" 

"The  means  to  go  on  working  on  our  claim." 

"Then  what  would  you  say  if  I  gave  you  them?" 

Ingleby  gasped.  For  days  he  had  been  haunted  by  the 
fear  that  their  provisions  would  run  out  before  they  found 
the  gold  he  believed  in,  for  a  little  very  simple  figuring  had 
shown  that  there  was  only  a  faint  hope  of  their  making 
more  than  the  value  of  their  day's  labour  once  they  relin- 
quished the  hitherto  unprofitable  claim.  There  was  also, 
it  was  evident,  no  great  probability  that  a  mere  wielder  of 
pick  and  shovel  would  ever  gain  the  regard  of  the  Gold 
Commissioner's  daughter,  though  Miss  Coulthurst,  whom 
he  met  occasionally,  had  of  late  been  unusually  gracious  to 
him.  He  had,  however,  not  the  faintest  notion  of  the  fact 
that  Hetty  Leger  read  his  thoughts. 

"You  see,  it's  quite  simple,"  she  said.  "I  made  this 
bread,  and  there  are  men  up  the  valley  who  are  really  find- 
ing gold.  They  don't  want  to  waste  a  minute  doing  any- 
thing else,  and  it  takes  time  to  bake.  You  can't  even  make 
flapjacks  in  a  moment.  Now,  if  I  had  two  or  three  sacks 
of  flour  I  think  I  could  get  almost  what  I  liked  to  ask  for 
every  loaf." 

Leger  looked  up  with  a  little  expressive  smile.  "I  be- 
lieve she  has  found  the  way  out  of  the  difficulty." 

It  was,  however,  Ingleby  at  whom  Hetty  glanced,  though 
it  did  not  strike  him  then — as  it  did  long  afterwards — that 


90  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

she  must  have  been  quite  aware  what  she  was  offering 
him. 

"Well?"  she  said. 

Ingleby's  lips  were  set,  and  his  face  a  trifle  grim.  To- 
live,  even  for  the  purpose  of  working  for  a  result  by  which 
she  would  benefit,  upon  the  yield  of  a  woman's  enterprise 
and  toil  did  not  commend  itself  to  him,  though  he  could 
not  very  well  tell  her  so. 

"We  haven't  got  the  flour,"  he  said. 

"No,"  said  Hetty.  "Still,  it  can  be  bought  at  the  settle- 
ment, and  no  doubt  you  could  find  the  pack-horses  in  the 
bush.  You  could  go  down  and  get  it  while  Tom  holds  the 
claim." 

"There  is  still  the  difficulty  that  I  haven't  got  the 
money." 

Hettv  laughed.  "I  have.  The  wages  were  really  good 
at  the  boarding-house.  Of  course,  you  and  Tom  could 
build  the  oven  and  chop  the  wood,  while  I  wouldn't  mind 
your  kneading  the  dough  either  if  you  wanted  to.  That 
would  leave  me  with  nothing  to  do  but  watch  the  bread 
baking." 

Ingleby  still  said  nothing;  but  his  face,  as  the  firelight 
showed,  was  a  trifle  flushed,  and  Leger  shook  his  head  at 
him.  "One  can't  afford  to  be  whimsical  up  here,"  he  said. 
"Anyway,  I'm  willing  to  give  the  thing  a  trial,  and  if  we 
don't  strike  gold  we  can  always  go  over  to  Tomlinson's 
or  start  baking,  too.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  should  turn 
out  as  profitable  as  mining,  and  it  is  certainly  likely  to  be  a 
good  deal  more  reliable." 

Hetty  once  more  glanced  at  Ingleby.  "Of  course,  we 
can't  make  you  join  us  if  you  don't  want." 

At  last  Ingleby  turned  to  her.  "Hetty,"  he  said  quietly, 
"I  don't  think  you  could  understand  how  much  you  have 
done  for  me.  I  would  sooner  cut  my  hand  off  than  let  the 
claim  go." 

Hetty  only  smiled,  and  they  had  almost  thrashed  out  the 


HETTY  FINDS  A  WAY  91 

scheme  when  a  thud  of  hoofs  came  up  faintly  through  the 
roar  of  the  river  from  the  gorge  below.  Then  the  figure  of 
a  horseman  became  visible,  and  when  he  swung  himself  very 
stiffly  from  the  saddle  in  front  of  the  fire  Ingleby  rose 
hastily  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Mr.  Sewell !"  he  said.  "I  don't  mean  it  conventionally, 
this — is — a  pleasure." 

The  stranger,  who  swept  his  wide  hat  off  as  he  turned  to 
Hetty,  laughed.  "I  have  just  come  in.  I  wonder  if  I 
could  ask — Mrs.  Ingleby,  isn't  it — for  a  little  supper?" 

The  request  was  a  very  usual  one  in  a  country  where  the 
stranger  is  rarely  turned  away  unfed;  but  Hetty,  who 
seemed  to  draw  a  little  farther  back  into  the  shadow,  was 
a  trifle  slow  in  answering  it. 

"Miss  Leger!"  she  said.  "Of  course,  you  shall  have 
supper.    Put  on  two  more  trout  and  fill  the  kettle,  Tom." 

Sewell  gratefully  took  his  place  beside  the  fire,  and,  for 
he  had  an  engaging  tongue,  had  almost  gained  Hetty's  con- 
fidence, which  was  not  lightly  given,  by  the  time  the  meal 
was  over.    Then  she  looked  hard  at  him. 

"What  did  you  come  here  for?"  she  asked. 

"Wouldn't  the  fame  of  the  Green  River  mines  be  excuse 
enough?"  said  the  man. 

Hetty  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  said,  "I  don't  think 
it  would.  People  who  talk  as  you  do  aren't  generally  fond 
of  digging." 

"Then  finding  I  wasn't  wanted  in  Vancouver  I  went 
back  into  the  States,  and  as  usual  got  into  a  trifling  diffi- 
culty there.  That  was  in  Colorado,  where  the  men  and  the 
manager  of  a  certain  big  mine  couldn't  come  to  terms.  The 
manager  was,  as  not  infrequently  happens,  friendly  with 
the  constituted  authorities,  and  between  them  and  the  men's 
executive,  with  whom  I  managed  to  quarrel,  they  made 
that  town  unpleasant  for  me.  Of  course,  one  gets  accus- 
tomed to  having  his  character  pulled  to  pieces  and  being 


92  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

hustled  in  the  streets,  but  they  go  rather  farther  than  that 
in  Colorado." 

"And  so  you  ran  away?" 

Sewell  laughed.  "I  certainly  went  when  it  was  evident 
that  I  could  do  no  good.  Still,  it  was  in  the  daylight,  and 
half  the  populace  came  with  me  to  the  station." 

"I  asked  you  what  brought  you  here,"  said  Hetty  se- 
verely. 

Sewell  made  a  little  expressive  gesture.  "Between  friends 
— I  think  I  can  go  so  far?"  he  asked,  and  it  was  Hetty 
alone  he  looked  at.  "You  see,  I  met  your  brother  and 
Mr.  Ingleby  in  Vancouver." 

Hetty  regarded  him  silently  for  a  moment  or  two.  He 
was  a  well-favoured  man  with  a  curiously  pleasing  manner. 
"Yes,"  she  said.    "I  think  you  can." 

"Then  I  came  here  to  see  what  I  could  do  at  mining — 
I  have  really  used  the  shovel  oftener  than  you  seem  to 
fancy — and,  when  it  is  necessary,  go  through  by  the  Indian 
trail  to  the  camps  between  this  country  and  the  Yukon. 
Though  they  will  probably  work  on  quietly  while  the  ground 
is  soft,  they're  not  pleased  with  the  mining  regulations 
yonder." 

He  looked  out  into  the  soft  blue  darkness  which  now 
veiled  the  great  white  peaks  that  lay  between  him  and  the 
vast  desolation  of  the  Northwest,  and  the  smile  died  out 
of  his  eyes.  A  few  moments  slipped  by  before  Leger  broke 
the  silence. 

"I  believe  that  trail  is  scarcely  practicable  to  a  white 
man.    Only  one  or  two  have  ever  tried  it,"  he  said. 

"That  is  so  much  the  better.  I  am,  however,  certainly 
going  in." 

There  waa  a  little  silence,  and  then  Ingleby  said  sugges- 
tively, "They  have  been  sending  a  good  many  of  the  North- 
west Police  into  that  country." 

Sewell  smiled.  "From  one  point  of  view  I  think  they 
were  wise.     It's  not  the  contented  that  one  usuallv  finds 


HETTY  FINDS  A  WAY  93 

mining  in  the  wilderness.  The  soil,  of  course,  is  British, 
but  that,  after  all,  does  not  imply  very  much." 

"You  mean  that  the  men  up  there  have  no  country?" 
asked  Leger. 

"Some  of  them,  at  least,  have  unpleasantly  good  memo- 
ries. They  are  the  cast-outs  and  the  superfluities;  but,  as 
no  doubt  you  know,  it  is  not  their  criminals  the  older  lands 
get  rid  of  now." 

"That,"  said  Hetty  sharply,  "is  all  nonsense.  If  they're 
really  bad  they  are  put  into  prison." 

Sewell  laughed.  "I  believe  they  are,  now  and  then. 
!Nbw,  suppose  you  tell  me  about  the  Green  Eiver  country." 

They  sat  late  that  night  about  the  crackling  fire,  though 
there  was  a  vague  uneasiness  upon  two  of  them.  Hetty 
liked  the  stranger,  as  a  man,  but  she  had  seen  that  trouble 
came  of  following  out  the  theories  he  believed  in ;  while  all 
Ingleby  wished  for  just  then  was  an  opportunity  for  toiling 
quietly  at  his  claim. 

Sewell  naturally  slept  in  their  tent,  and  it  was  not  until 
he  had  breakfasted  next  morning  that  he  rode  into  the 
valley.  Ingleby  walked  with  him  a  short  distance,  and  as  it 
happened  they  met  Grace  Coulthurst  on  the  trail.  She 
smiled  as  she  passed  Ingleby.  Sewell,  his  companion  fan- 
cied, looked  at  her  harder  than  was  necessary  as  he  sat  still 
in  the  saddle,  a  somewhat  striking  figure  of  a  man,  with  his 
wide  hat  in  his  hand. 

"Who  is  that?"  he  asked. 

"Miss  Coulthurst,  daughter  of  the  Gold  Commissioner." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  a  prospector  shouldn't  look  at 
a  queen,  and  she  has  a  striking  face.  Of  course,  one  would 
hardly  call  it  beautiful — still,  it  is  distinctly  attractive." 

"You  have  no  doubt  met  a  good  many  beautiful  women 
of  her  station  ?"  asked  Ingleby,  who  was  a  trifle  nettled  and 
could  not  quite  restrain  the  ironical  question. 

Sewell  laughed.    "Well,"  he  said,  "I  have  certainly  come 


94  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

across  one  or  two.    Besides,  I  had  rather  a  fancy  that  I 
might  be  an  artist  once — a  good  while  ago." 

Inglehy  was  duly  astonished,  hut  no  more  was  said  on 
the  subject,  and  in  another  few  minutes  Sewell  rode  on  up 
the  valley  alone. 


X 

UNKEST 

T  T  was  as  hot  as  it  can  be  now  and  then  during  the  fierce 
brief  summer  of  the  North,  and  the  perspiration  rose 
in  beads  on  the  Crown  Kecorder's  face  as  he  stood  on  the 
rude  verandah  of  his  log-built  dwelling  looking  down  at  the 
tents  and  shanties  which  showed  here  and  there  amidst  the 
pines.  He  was  a  little  man  with  a  quiet  and  almost  ex- 
pressionless face,  and  attired,  although  he  lived  far  remote 
from  civilization  in  the  wilderness,  with  a  fastidious  neat- 
ness which  with  the  erectness  of  his  carriage  furnished  a 
hint  as  to  his  character.  There  was,  however,  nothing  that 
any  one  could  have  termed  finicking  about  him.  He  was 
precise,  formal,  and  unemotional,  a  man  of  fixed  opinions, 
as  little  to  be  moved  by  argument  as  by  any  attempt  at 
compulsion,  for  Eecorder  Eshelby  was  one  of  the  Insular 
Englishmen  who,  when  entrusted  with  authority  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  Empire,  are  equally  capable  of  adding  to  their 
nation's  credit  or  involving  it  in  difficulties  by  their  soulless 
and  undeviating  regard  for  its  law.  There  are  a  good  many 
of  them,  and,  while  occasionally  respected,  they  are,  as  a 
rule,  not  greatly  loved  in  any  of  England's  dependencies. 

Sitting  in  the  shadowy  room  behind  him  a  hard-bitten 
Canadian  of  a  very  different  stamp  watched  Eshelby  with 
an  ironical  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  He  had  won  his  promotion, 
on  merit,  in  the  Northwest  Police,  and  there  was  red  dust 
on  his  faded  uniform,  which  showed  a  roughly  stitched-up 
rent  here  and  there. 

Outside  the  sunglare  was  dazzling,  and  when  he  turned 
95 


96  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

his  eyes  from  Eshelby  he  could  see  the  peaks  gleaming  with 
a  hard  whiteness  against  the  blue.  They  were  by  no  means 
high,  for  the  level  of  perpetual  snow  is  low  in  that  country, 
and  it  was  only  on  the  eastern  hand  that  they  rose  to  any 
elevation.  West  and  north  a  desolation  of  swamp  muskeg, 
wherein  few  living  creatures  could  face  the  mosquitoes, 
rock  and  river,  stretched  hack  to  the  Yukon,  and  Eshelby 
was  there  to  carry  out  the  mining  laws  of  that  district, 
which  are  less  lenient  than  those  of  the  province  to  the 
south  of  it. 

The  valley  was  very  still,  and  the  drowsy  fragrance  of  the 
firs  crept  into  the  dwelling ;  but  Slavin,  who  would  sooner 
have  heard  the  clatter  of  shovels  or  the  crash  of  a  blasting 
charge,  was  not  in  the  least  deceived.  He  knew  that  un- 
usual quietness  now  and  then  presages  storm,  and  he  had 
felt  that  there  was  a  tension  in  the  atmosphere  for  some 
little  time.  He  smiled,  however,  when  Eshelby  glanced 
into  the  room. 

"If  they  do  not  turn  up  in  another  minute  I  will  walk 
across  to  the  outpost  with  you,"  said  the  latter.  "The  time 
is  up." 

He  spoke  concisely,  with  a  clean  English  intonation,  and, 
as  usual,  betrayed  no  impatience;  but  Slavin  fancied  he 
was  by  no  means  pleased  at  the  fact  that  a  band  of  miners 
with  grievances  should  presume  to  keep  him  waiting  for 
even  a  few  moments. 

"I  guess  they'll  come,"  he  said.  "If  I  were  you  I'd 
promise  them  something  if  it's  only  to  humour  them." 

Eshelby  glanced  at  him  coldly,  for  he  was  not  as  a  rule 
addicted  to  considering  any  advice  that  might  be  offered 
him. 

"A  concession,"  he  said,  "is  usually  regarded  as  a  sign  of 
wavering.  In  dealing  with  a  mob  of  this  kind  firmness  is 
necessary." 

Slavin  made  a  little  gesture,  and  smiled  in  a  somewhat 
curious  fashion.    He  had  shepherded  the  Blackfeet  on  the 


UNREST  97 

plains,  as  well  as  put  down  whisky-runners  and  carried  out 
the  prohibition  laws,  and  he  knew  that  to  gain  an  end  one 
must  yield  a  point  occasionally.  It  was,  however,  not  his 
business  to  instruct  the  Crown  Recorder,  and  Eshelby  sel- 
dom deviated  a  hair's-breadth  from  the  course  he  had  once 
decided  on. 

"Well,"  Slavin  said,  "I  guess  I  hear  them,  and  I'll  stay 
right  where  I  am.  They  can't  see  me  in  the  shadow,  and 
if  they  knew  I  was  hanging  round  it  might  worry  them. 
You  don't  want  to  hang  out  a  red  rag  when  you  have  a 
difference  of  opinion  with  a  bull." 

He  moved  his  chair  back  a  little  farther  from  the  door 
when  a  murmur  of  voices  and  patter  of  feet  came  up 
through  the  dimness  beneath  the  stunted  pines,  for  he  was 
quite  aware  that  his  warning  was  not  likely  to  restrain 
Eshelby  from  a  display  of  the  exasperating  crimson  on 
the  smallest  provocation.  Then  he  leaned  forward  with  a 
quiet  intentness  in  his  eyes  as  a  group  of  men  came  out  of 
the  shadows.  They  were  dressed  for  the  most  part  in  soil- 
stained  jean,  and  were  all  of  them  spare  of  flesh  and  sinewy. 
They  had  bronzed  faces  with  a  significant  grimness  in  them, 
and  moved  with  a  certain  air  of  resolution  that  did  not  as- 
tonish Slavin.  They  were  hard  men — English,  Canadians, 
Americans,  Teutons,  by  birth — though  that  meant  very 
little  to  most  of  them  then ;  men  who  had  faced  many  perils 
and  borne  as  much  privation  as  flesh  and  blood  is  capable  of. 
To  men  of  their  kind  all  countries  are  the  same,  and  they 
have  not  as  a  rule  any  particular  tenderness  for  the  land 
which  had,  in  their  phraseology,  no  use  for  them. 

They  had  also,  or,  at  least,  so  they  thought,  legitimate 
grievances ;  for  the  exactions  of  the  Crown  were  heavy,  and 
it  is  because  the  opinions  of  such  as  they  were  are  seldom 
listened  to  that  news  now  and  then  reaches  England  which 
is  unpleasant  to  complacent  optimists  with  Imperialistic 
views.  The  wonder  is,  however,  that  the  latter  are  not 
more  frequently  disturbed  in  their  tranquillity,  for  even 


98  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

j  when  peace  and  prosperity  are  proclaimed  at  St.  Stephen's 
there  is  usually,  and  probably  must  necessarily  be,  all 
round  the  fringe  of  the  Empire  a  vague  unrest  which  is 
occasionally  rife  with  unpleasant  probabilities.  The  men 
of  the  outer  marches  have  primitive  passions,  and,  or  they 
would  in  all  probability  never  have  been  there  at  all,  an 
indomitable  will.  Slavin,  at  least,  understood  them,  and 
knew  that  while  it  is  well  to  keep  a  tight  grasp  on  the  reins, 
it  is  not  always  advisable  to  make  those  driven  unduly 
sensible  of  it. 

Two  who  came  foremost  stopped  in  front  of  the  veranda, 
and  one  of  them  was  a  well-favoured  man  with  restless  dark 
eyes.  Slavin  fancied  he  had  seen  the  picture  of  somebody 
very  like  him  in  an  American  paper.  The  rest  waited  a  few 
yards  away,  and  the  man  with  the  dark  eyes  greeted 
Eshelby,  who  responded  with  the  curtest  inclination,  cour- 
teously. 

"We  have  come  for  an  answer  to  the  request  we  handed 
you,"  he  said. 

Eshelby  glanced  at  him  coldly.  "You  are  a  free  miner? 
What  is  the  name  on  your  certificate?" 

"Sewell,"  said  the  other.  "You  may,  perhaps,  have 
heard  of  it?" 

Slavin  started  a  little,  and  then  smiled  to  himself,  for 
there  was,  at  least,  no  sign  in  the  Recorder's  face  that  he 
attached  any  particular  significance  to  the  announcement. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  have,  as  I  promised,  glanced  at  what 
you  are  pleased  to  term  your  request,  though  it  bears  a 
somewhat  unfortunate  resemblance  to  a  demand." 

"We're  not  going  to  worry  'bout  what  you  call  it,"  said 
the  man  who  had  not  spoken  yet.  "We  have  come  here 
so  you  can  tell  us  what  you  mean  to  do." 

Eshelby  smiled  a  little,  though  it  would  have  been  wiser 
if  he  had  refrained  from  it. 

"Personally,"  he  said,  "I  can  do  nothing  whatever." 

There  was  a  low  murmur  with  an  unpleasant  note  in  it 


UNREST  99 

from  the  rest  of  the  deputation.  The  curt  non  possumus  is 
usually  the  last  resource  of  the  diplomatist  when  argument 
has  failed,  and  it  very  seldom  makes  for  peace,  as  everybody 
knows.  Slavin  wondered  why  the  Crown  authorities  should 
have  inflicted  upon  him  such  a  man  as  Eshelby  when  his 
burden  was  already  sufficiently  heavy. 

"Well,"  said  the  miner  grimly,  "something  has  got  to 
be  done.  We  let  you  know  what  we  wanted.  Haven't  you 
anything  to  say?" 

"Only  that  I  shall  send  your  petition  to  the  proper 
quarter."  , 

"I  wonder,"  said  Sewell  drily,  "if  you  would  tell  us  what 
is  likely  to  be  done  with  it  there?" 

"It  will  receive  attention  when  the  department  is  at  lib- 
erty to  consider  it." 

Sewell  laughed.  "Presumably  at  any  time  during  the 
next  two  years!  Can  you  guarantee  that  it  will  not  be 
neatly  docketed  and  put  away  for  ever  ?" 

"And,"  said  one  of  the  men  who  stood  behind,  "we  may 
be  dead  by  then.  How're  we  going  to  worry  through  when 
the  snow  comes  and  if  s  going  to  cost  a  fortune  to  get  pro- 
visions in  when  the  Crown  takes  the  big  share  of  what  most 
of  us  make?" 

Eshelby  did  not  even  look  at  the  last  speaker  as  he  an- 
swered Sewell. 

"I  certainly  can't  guarantee  anything,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  little  murmur  from  the  men,  but  Sewell 
raised  his  hand  restrainingly.  "We  had,"  he  said,  with  a 
quietness  which  had,  nevertheless,  a  suggestion  of  irony  in 
it,  "the  honour  of  pointing  out  to  you  some  of  our  diffi- 
culties and  suggesting  how  they  could  be  obviated.  We 
may  now  take  it  that  you  can  give  us  no  assurance  that 
the  matter  will  even  receive  the  attention  we,  at  least,  think 
necessary  ?" 

"I  am,"  said  Eshelby,  "not  in  a  position  to  promise  you 


100  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

anything.  The  petition  will  be  submitted  to  men  qualified 
to  deal  with  it." 

"With  a  recommendation  that  as  the  matter  is  urgent  it 
should  be  looked  into?" 

Eshelby  straightened  himself  a  trifle.  "My  views  will  be 
explained  to  those  in  authority.  I  do  not  recognize  any 
necessity  for  laying  them  before  you." 

The  rest  of  the  deputation  had  drawn  a  little  closer  to 
Sewell,  and  Slavin  was  watching  their  faces  intently.  He 
felt  that  unless  they  had  confidence  in  their  leader,  and  he 
was  endued  with  all  the  qualities  necessary  for  the  part, 
there  was  trouble  on  hand.  Sewell,  who  made  a  little  force- 
ful gesture  as  he  glanced  at  the  rest,  was,  however,  ap- 
parently still  master  of  the  situation. 

"Then,"  he  said,  "there  is  in  the  meanwhile  nothing 
you  can  suggest  ?" 

"I  fancied  you  understood  that  already,"  said  Eshelby. 
"If  those  whose  business  it  is  think  fit  to  modify  the  regu- 
lations you  complain  of  I  will  let  you  know.  Unless  that 
happens  they  will  be  adhered  to  as  usual,  rigorously." 

His  coldly  even  voice  was  in  itself  an  aggravation,  and 
Slavin,  who  saw  one  of  the  deputation  move  forward  with 
a  little  glow  in  his  eyes,  rose  sharply  to  his  feet.  He,  how- 
ever, sat  down  again  next  moment  with  a  smile,  for  Sewell 
quietly  laid  his  hand  upon  the  man's  arm,  and  the  rest 
stood  still  in  obedience  to  his  gesture.  Slavin  was  not 
astonished,  for  he,  too,  was  a  man  who  understood  how  to 
wield  authority. 

"Then,"  said  Sewell,  "we  need  not  waste  any  more  of 
your  time.  We  have  heard  nothing  that  we  did  not  expect, 
boys,  and  now  we  at  least  know  where  we  stand." 

He  turned  once  more  to  Eshelby,  raising  his  wide  hat, 
and  then  moved  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  pines,  taking 
care,  as  Slavin  noticed,  that  the  others,  who  did  not  seem 
greatly  desirous  of  doing  so,  went  on  in  front  of  him.    The 


UNREST  101 

Recorder  glanced  at  Slavin  complacently  when  they  dis- 
appeared. 

"A  little  firmness  is  usually  effective  in  a  case  of  this 
kind,"  he  said.  "I  will,  of  course,  send  on  the  petition, 
but  as  I  scarcely  suppose  it  will  be  referred  to  again  we 
can  consider  the  affair  as  closed." 

Slavin  smiled.  "I  am  not  quite  so  sure  as  you  seem  to 
he.  The  fellow's  last  remark  was  a  significant  one,  and 
he's  not  the  kind  of  man  to  stand  still  anywhere  very  long. 
Anyway,  he  and  you  between  you  have  forced  my  hand,  and, 
while  I  have  got  to  take  your  lead,  the  game  is  going  to 
be  a  risky  one." 

Eshelby  sat  down  with  a  little  gesture  which  implied  that 
he  had  already  given  the  trifling  affair  rather  more  atten- 
tion than  it  merited ;  and  Slavin  went  out  to  take  such  pro- 
ceedings as  appeared  advisable,  though  it  was  not  until 
that  night  that  the  result  of  them  became  evident. 

Sewell  was  then  sitting  with  eight  or  nine  men  in  the 
general  room  of  Hobson's  Oregon  Hotel.  It  had  walls  of 
undressed  logs,  but  the  roof  was  still  of  canvas,  for  Hobson 
had  been  too  busy  watching  over  his  interests  in  several 
profitable  claims  and  dispensing  deleterious  liquor  to  split 
sufficient  cedar.  There  was  another  room  in  the  building 
in  which  he  slept  with  any  newcomer  who  was  rash  enough 
to  put  his  hospitality  to  the  test.  Rather  more  than  a  hun- 
dred miners  were  at  work  in  that  valley,  but  only  a  few 
whose  views  and  influence  with  the  rest  were  known  had 
been  invited  to  attend  the  conference. 

The  room  was  foul  with  tobacco  smoke  and  the  reek  of 
kerosene,  for  the  big  lamp  smoked  when  the  roof  canvas 
flapped  now  and  then.  Sewell  sat  in  a  deer-hide  chair  with 
a  pipe  in  his  hand,  and  a  man  with  a  grim,  bronzed  face  and 
a  splendid  corded  arm  showing  through  the  torn  sleeve  of 
his  shirt  was  speaking.  He  spoke  quietly  and  like  a  man  of 
education. 

"We  have,"  he  said,  "as  our  host  has  pointed  out,  done 


102  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

the  straight  thing  and  given  constituted  authority  a  show. 
The  constituted  authority,  as  usual,  prefers  to  do  nothing. 
We  naturally  consider  our  grievances  warranted,  but  I  need 
not  go  into  them  again.  Some  of  us  risked  our  lives  to 
get  here ;  the  rest  will  probably  do  so  by  holding  on  through 
the  winter,  and,  considering  how  we  work,  it  is  not  exactly 
astonishing  that  we  wish  to  take  back  a  little  gold  with  us — 
which  we  are  scarcely  likely  to  do  under  the  present  regu- 
lations. I,  however,  fancy  the  position  is  plain  enough  to 
everybody." 

"The  question,  Hobson,"  said  another  man,  "is  how's  it 
going  to  be  altered  ?" 

"By  kicking,"  said  Hobson  drily.  "You  want  to  start 
in  hard,  and  stay  right  there  with  it." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  approval,  and  a  man  stood  up. 

"That,  I  guess,  is  just  the  point — who's  to  begin,  and 
when?"  he  said.  "There's  mighty  little  use  in  three  or 
four  of  us  wearing  our  shoes  out  before  the  rest.  No,  sir, 
Slavin  would  come  round  with  his  troopers  and  run  those 
men  out." 

Sewell  nodded.  "Our  friend  has  hit  it;  we  have  got  to 
go  slow,"  he  said.  "There  are  at  least  a  hundred  men  in 
this  valley,  and  a  good  many  more  with  the  same  grievances 
farther  west,  without  mentioning  the  Green  Eiver  country, 
where  the  regulations  are  easier.  Now,  it  will  be  your  busi- 
ness to  go  round  and  make  sure  of  the  men  here  joining  us. 
A  good  many  of  them  are  ready,  and  we'll  strike  when  you 
can  get  the  rest.    The  kick  will  have  to  be  unanimous." 

"That's  so,"  said  another  man.  "Lie  low  until  we're 
ready.  Well,  when  the  time  comes  you'll  have  your  pro- 
gramme ?" 

Sewell  leaned  forward  in  his  chair  with  a  little  glow  in 
his  eyes.  "Then,"  he  said,  "we  will,  for  one  thing,  show 
Eecorder  Eshelby  out  of  the  valley  by  way  of  a  protest,, 
and,  if  it  appears  necessary,  as  it  probably  will  do,  seize 
Slavin's  armoury.     We'll  make  our  regulations  and  give 


UNREST  103 

the  Crown  people  a  hint  that  they  had  better  sanction 
them." 

There  was  a  little  hum  of  approbation,  and  a  man  stood 
up.  "I  guess  that's  the  platform/'  he  said.  "Half  the 
men  in  this  country  are  Americans,  and  Alaska  is  not  so 
far  away.  Once  we  show  we  mean  it  they're  coming  right 
in,  and  when  we  start  in  twisting  the  Beaver's  tail  we're 
going  to  get  some  backing  at  home.  Do  you  know  any 
reason  why  we  shouldn't  send  somebody  down  south  to  whip 
up  a  campaign  fund?  There  was  plenty  of  money  piled 
up  when  the  Chicago  Irishmen  were  going  over  to  ask  why 
the  British  nation  threw  out  the  Home  Kule  Bill." 

Most  of  the  others  laughed,  but  while  there  was  no  ex- 
pression of  sympathy  it  was  significant  that  there  was  as 
little  astonishment.  Visionaries  talked  of  founding  a  new 
republic  in  the  North  just  then,  and  some  of  annexation, 
but  still  the  Beaver  flag  flapped  over  every  Government  out- 
post. There  were  many  men  with  grievances  in  that  coun- 
try, but  they  knew  the  world  and  were  far  from  sure  that 
there  was  anything  to  be  gained  by  changing  their  accus- 
tomed burden  for  what  might  prove  to  be  a  more  grievous 
one.  There  were  others  who,  while  by  no  means  contented 
with  the  mining  regulations,  were  still  characterized  by  the 
sturdy  Imperialism  which  is  to  be  met  with  throughout 
most  of  Canada. 

Hobson  turned  to  the  speaker  with  a  whimsical  grin. 
"The  Chicago  Irishmen  stayed  right  where  they  were," 
he  said.  "I  don't  know  what  they  did  with  the  money,  but 
they  bought  no  rifles — they  weren't  blame  fools.  The  moral 
is  that  what  an  Irishman  looks  at  twice  is  too  big  a  thing 
for  us.  No,  sir,  you  wouldn't  raise  ten  dollars  in  a  month 
down  there.  America  has  all  the  trouble  she  has  any  use 
for  already.  What  we  want  to  do  is  to  put  up  a  good  big 
bluff — and  no  more  than  that — on  the  British  Empire." 

"How's  the  Empire  going  to  take  it?"  asked  another. 

Sewell  smiled.    "Patiently,  I  think.     That  is,  if  we  go 


104*  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

just  far  enough  and  know  when  to  stop.  They  move  slowly 
in  England — I  was  horn  there — and  I'm  not  sure  they're 
very  much  quicker  in  Ottawa.  In  fact,  they  rather  like  an 
energetic  protest,  and  you  very  seldom  get  anything  with- 
out it.  Once  we  show  we're  in  earnest  they'll  send  over  a 
special  commissioner  with  instructions  to  make  any  con- 
cessions he  thinks  will  please  us." 

"There  are  Slavin  and  his  troopers  to  consider,"  said 
the  man  who  had  spoken  first.  "They're  not  going  to  sit 
still,  and  if  any  of  them  got  hurt  during  the  proceedings 
it's  quite  likely  we  might  be  visited  by  a  column  of  Cana- 
dian militia." 

Others  commenced  to  speak — two  or  three  together,  in 
fact — but  Sewell  raised  his  hand. 

"That  eventuality  will  have  to  be  carefully  guarded 
against,"  he  said.  "Slavin  seems  to  be  a  man  of  ability 
and  sense,  and  he  would  never  pit  his  handful  of  troopers 
against  a  hundred  men.  In  the  meanwhile,  everything  de- 
pends on  secrecy,  and  no  move  must  be  made  until  you  are 
sure  of  everybody.  I  will  answer  for  the  Green  Eiver  men. 
I  am  going  back  there  shortly." 

Then  they  put  their  heads  together  to  consider  a  scheme, 
and  there  was  only  a  low  hum  of  voices  until  Hobson  stood 
up  suddenly.  A  tramp  of  feet  and  a  sharp  order  rose  from 
outside. 

"Slavin  and  the  troopers  !"  he  said.  "We  don't  want  him 
to  know  who's  here.  Get  out  through  the  roof,  boys.  Put 
the  lamp  out." 

It  was  done,  and  while  a  sound  of  ripping  and  scrambling 
became  audible  in  the  black  darkness  Hobson  touched 
Sewell's  arm. 

"You  and  I  have  got  to  see  it  out.  I  guess  he's  sure  of 
us,"  he  said. 

In  another  moment  or  two  somebody  beat  upon  the  door, 
and  getting  no  answer  drove  it  open.     Then  a  sulphur 


UNREST  105 

match  sputtered,  and  the  trooper  who  stood  in  the  entrance 
turned  to  a  man  behind  him. 

"There  are  only  two  men  here,  sir,"  he  said. 

"Light  that  lamp,"  said  the  other  man.  "I  feel  toler- 
ably certain  there  were  considerably  more." 

Hobson  stood  forward  when  the  feeble  light  of  the  blue 
flame  made  him  dimly  visible. 

"I  guess  it's  broke,"  he  said. 

"Bring  Rignauld's  lantern !"  said  the  man  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

It  was  at  least  a  minute  before  another  trooper  appeared 
with  a  light,  and  Sewell  surmised  that  his  companions  had 
made  good  use  of  the  time.  Slavin,  who,  as  he  quite  ex- 
pected, was  standing  in  the  doorway,  seemed  to  realize  it 
too,  for  he  glanced  at  the  torn  canvas. 

"I  might  have  thought  of  that,"  he  said.  "You  and 
Rignauld  will  start  down  the  trail  and  stop  any  man  you 
come  across,  though  I  guess  they're  back  in  their  tents  or 
in  the  bush  by  now." 

The  trooper  went  out,  and  Slavin  turned  to  Hobson  with 
a  smile  on  his  face.  "We  have  got  you,  anyway,  and  you'll 
spend  to-night,  at  least,  in  the  outpost.  To-morrow  I'll 
look  into  the  question  of  the  liquor-sale  permits,  and  it's 
quite  likely  this  saloon  will  be  closed.  I'll  have  to  take  you 
along  as  well,  Mr.  Sewell." 

Sewell  made  a  good-humoured  gesture  of  resignation. 
"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  come.  It's  a  proceeding  I'm  not 
altogether  unaccustomed  to.  Still,  I'm  not  sure  there  is 
any  charge  you  can  work  up  against  me." 

Slavin  looked  at  him  almost  appreciatively.  "Well,"  he 
said,  "I  fancy  you're  not  going  to  make  any  trouble  here. 
In  fact,  ifs  very7  probable  that  you  will  leave  this  settlement 
early  to-morrow,  though  it  would  have  been  a  good  deal 
better  had  I  choked  you  off  from  coming  here.  I  would 
have  done  it  had  I  known  who  you  were.    You  will  take 


106  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

any  steps  that  seem  necessary  if  these  gentlemen  try  to  get 
away,  Trooper  Nixon." 

Sewell  spent  that  night  at  the  outpost,  but  not  in  the 
same  room  with  Hobson,  and  when  he  had  breakfasted  tol- 
erably well  Slavin  came  in. 

"Your  horse  is  waiting,  and  you  will  start  at  once — for 
wherever  you  like  so  long  as  it's  outside  my  boundaries, 
though  I  may  as  well  mention  that  every  officer  in  the 
district  will  be  warned  against  you,"  he  said.  "If  you  feel 
yourself  aggrieved  you  can,  of  course,  complain  to  Vic- 
toria." 

Sewell  made  no  protest.  When  he  knew  it  would  be 
useless  he  seldom  did,  and  Slavin,  who  handed  him  several 
days'  provisions,  waited  until  he  swung  himself  into  the 
saddle. 

"It  wouldn't  be  wise  to  push  your  luck  too  hard  by 
coming  back,"  he  said. 

Sewell  smiled  from  the  saddle,  and  rode  away.  He  knew 
that  the  seed  was  sown  and  need  only  be  left  to  spring  and 
ripen,  though  he  would  have  felt  easier  had  he  been  sure 
that  Slavin  did  not  know  it,  too.  Eshelby  could  be  trusted 
to  stimulate  the  growth  of  the  crop,  but  he  had  already 
grasped  the  capabilities  of  the  quiet  police  officer,  who,  it 
was  evident,  was  a  very  different  kind  of  man. 


XI 

INGLEBY  VENTURES  A  REMONSTRANCE 

T  T  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Ingleby,  who  led  two 
jaded  pack-horses,  limped  into  the  Green  River  canon. 
His  long  boots,  which  were  caked  with  the  mire  of  leagues 
of  travel,  galled  him  cruelly;  every  joint  was  aching;  and 
it  was  only  by  an  effort  he  kept  himself  on  his  feet  at  all. 
It  had  rained  most  of  the  way  from  the  distant  settlement 
where  he  had  been  for  the  flour  Hetty  had  asked  for,  and 
during  the  last  week  he  had  slept  by  snatches  amidst  the 
dripping  fern  while  the  pitiless  deluge  thrashed  the  fir 
trunks  that  indifferently  sheltered  him.  The  few  strips  of 
natural  prairie  in  the  valleys  had  turned  to  treacherous 
swamps,  where  he  sank  to  the  knee,  and  every  few  miles 
there  was  a  furious  torrent  to  be  forded  perilously. 

Had  he  been  called  on  to  make  that  journey  under  such 
conditions  when  fresh  from  England  he  would  probably 
never  have  reached  the  canon,  but  strenuous  toil  with 
pick  and  shovel  and  the  simple  life  of  the  wilderness  had 
hardened  him,  and  endued  him  with  the  strength  of  will 
which  holds  the  worn-out  body  in  due  subjection.  Man's 
capacity  for  endurance  is,  as  even  the  hard-handed  bush- 
man  knows,  moral  as  well  as  physical;  but  Ingleby  was 
making  his  last  effort  when  he  reached  the  great  rift  be- 
tween the  hills. 

The  river  roared  close  beneath  him,  swirling  among  its 
boulders,  stained  green  with  the  clay  of  a  great  glacier, 
and  overhead  the  sombre  pines  were  blurred  by  mist  and 
rain.    No  laden  beast  could  scale  the  slope  they  clung  to, 

107 


108  DELILAH    OF   THE    SNOWS 

and  a  treacherous  bank  of  gravel  on  which  a  man  could 
scarcely  keep  his  footing  dropped  to  the  river  just  outside 
the  slushy  trail.  Ingleby  sank  ankle-deep  in  mire  at  every 
step,  but  he  held  on  doggedly  with  a  hand  on  the  leading 
horse's  bridle  and  the  rain  on  his  face,  for  Leger's  camp 
was  not  very  far  away,  and  he  feared  that  if  he  rested  now 
his  worn-out  limbs  might  fail  him  when  he  came  to  start 
again. 

That  was  sufficient  to  account  for  the  sudden  hardening 
of  his  face  when  a  thud  of  hoofs  came  out  of  the  rain.  The 
trail  was  especially  soft  and  narrow  just  there,  and  it  would 
evidently  be  a  risky  matter  to  attempt  to  lead  two  horses 
past  each  other.  Thrusting  the  leading  beast  close  in  to 
the  inner  side  he  raised  his  voice  as  two  figures  materialized 
amidst  the  trunks  in  front  of  him.  Down  in  that  great  hol- 
low the  light  was  dim,  but  the  clatter  of  accoutrements  told 
him  it  was  a  couple  of  police  troopers  who  were  ap- 
proaching. 

"Stop  where  you  are  until  I  get  by.  There's  scarcely 
room  for  both  of  us,"  he  said. 

It  was  evident  that  the  men  heard  him,  for  one  said 
something  to  the  other  sharply,  but  they  did  not  stop.  They 
came  on  at  a  floundering  trot  instead,  until  Ingleby  saw 
who  the  foremost  was  and  pulled  the  pack-horse  across  the 
trail.  Then  there  was  a  musical  jingling  as  the  men  drew 
bridle,  and  Ingleby  and  the  leader  looked  at  each  other. 
He  wore  an  officer's  uniform  and  there  was  just  then  a  little 
sardonic  gleam  in  his  dark  eyes.  He  was  also  very  like  the 
man  Ingleby,  who  now  knew  he  bore  the  same  name,  had 
faced  at  Willow  Dene. 

"Why  didn't  you  pull  up  behind  there,  packer?"  he 
asked. 

"You  couldn't  have  got  past,  Captain  Esmond,"  said 
Ingleby.  "I  was  well  into  the  narrow  stretch  when  I 
called  to  you." 

"That,"  said  the  policeman,  "is  a  trifle  unfortunate — 


INGLEBY'S  REMONSTRANCE  109 

for  yon.  It  ought  to  be  tolerably  evident  that  I  can't  wheel 
my  horse  now." 

It  was  apparently  out  of  the  question,  but  Ingleby's  wet 
face  grew  a  trifle  grim,  for  the  assurance  with  which  the 
young  officer  claimed  precedence  was  exasperating,  and  he 
knew  that  any  miner  in  the  valley  seeing  him  hampered 
by  two  laden  beasts  would  have  made  way  for  him.  One 
of  them,  it  was  evident,  must  leave  the  trail,  but  Ingleby 
felt  that  the  question  which  that  one  would  be  was  by  no 
means  decided  yet.  He  glanced  at  the  swirling  pool  below, 
and  though  he  fancied  there  was  no  great  depth  of  water,  it 
was  clear  to  him  that  even  if  he  could  lead  the  worn-out 
beasts  down  the  slippery  slope  of  gravel  he  could  never 
drag  them  up  again. 

"You  should  have  foreseen  that  when  I  warned  you  to 
stop,"  he  said. 

A  little  flicker  of  colour  showed  in  Esmond's  face,  but 
he  sat  easily,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  Ingleby,  insolently,  still 
in  his  saddle,  looking  at  him  with  an  excellent  assumption 
of  ironical  incredulity,  as  though  unwilling  to  believe  that 
he  had  heard  correctly.  This  was  the  more  exasperating 
because  Ingleby  had  his  share  of  the  sturdy  English  in- 
dependence, and  an  almost  unreasoning  dislike  of  anything 
that  savoured  of  arrogance.  It  was,  however,  consoling 
to  remember  that  in  the  wilderness  the  patrician  is  held  of 
no  more  account  than  the  manhood  inherent  in  him  war- 
rants, and  must  either  waive  his  claim  to  superiority  or 
support  it  by  his  own  resources.  There  was  also  no  sign 
that  the  trooper  sympathized  with  his  officer. 

"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  get  out  of  my  way?"  asked 
Esmond  with  portentous  quietness. 

There  was  no  answer;  and  he  touched  his  horse  with  the 
spur.  The  beast  floundered  forward  splashing  in  the  mire ; 
but  Ingleby  stood  still  with  a  grim  wet  face  in  the  middle 
of  the  trail,  and  a  faint  trace  of  astonishment  crept  into 
the  young  officer's  eyes,  for,  as  sometimes  happens  in  the 


110  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

case  of  men  with  sufficient  belief  in  themselves,  he  had 
hitherto  found  the  world  inclined  to  take  him  at  his  own 
valuation.  Now  he  found  the  position  as  galling  as  it  was 
unexpected,  for  it  was  evident  that  the  nerve  of  the  wet 
and  miry  man  who  stood  awaiting  him  with  exasperating 
quietness  was  quite  equal  to  his. 

Esmond's  blood  was  up,  and  it  is  very  probable  that  he 
would  have  risked  the  encounter  had  he  been  free  from 
official  responsibility.  As  it  was,  however,  he  remembered 
that  an  officer  of  police  is  not  warranted  in  riding  down 
an  unoffending  citizen,  and  in  addition  to  this  the  heavily- 
laden  pack-horse  drawn  right  across  the  trail  promised  to 
prove  an  embarrassing  obstacle  even  if  Ingleby  had  not 
been  standing  beside  it  with  a  heavy  fir  staff  in  his  hand. 
It  occurred  to  Esmond  that  there  was  very  little  to  be 
gained  except  damage  to  his  personal  dignity  by  riding 
into  two  bags  of  flour,  while  a  second  pack-horse  similarly 
encumbered  blocked  the  trail  close  behind. 

Thus  at  the  last  moment  he  swung  himself  backwards 
with  a  wrench  upon  the  bridle,  and  there  was  a  scattering 
of  mire  and  gravel  as  his  horse  reeled  down  the  slope  to  the 
river.  The  beast  was  used  to  the  mountains,  and  the  man 
had  ridden  from  infancy,  so  that  when  they  plunged  to  the 
girth  in  the  swirling  pool  he  was  still  in  the  saddle,  and 
Ingleby  saw  that  his  face  was  dark  with  a  flush  of  anger. 
How  he  was  to  get  out  was  his  own  business,  and  it  was 
evident  that  he  was  in  no  danger,  so  Ingleby  turned  and 
gazed  at  the  trooper,  who  sat  still  with  a  faint  but  sugges- 
tive twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"I  don't  want  to  wait  here.  Both  the  beasts  and  I  are 
badly  played  out,"  he  said. 

The  trooper  rubbed  his  chin  with  a  wet  hand,  and 
glanced  at  his  officer,  who  had,  however,  his  back  to  him 
just  then  as  he  picked  his  way  amidst  the  boulders. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  guess  if  I  got  down  and  edged  out  to 


INGLEBY'S  REMONSTRANCE  111 

the  off  side  you  might  pass  me.  The  trail's  a  little  wider 
here." 

"Thanks!"  said  Ingleby,  and  looked  at  the  man  as  he 
carefully  led  his  beasts  by  him.  The  trooper  also  looked  at 
him,  with  a  little  comprehending  grin. 

"Somebody's  going  to  make  trouble  if  he  can  find  a  speck 
on  anything  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

He  swung  himself  into  the  saddle  with  all  the  haste  he 
could  contrive,  and  with  one  eye  still  upon  his  officer. 
Ingleby  plodded  on,  and,  as  dusk  was  closing  in,  limped  into 
sight  of  a  ruddy  blaze  among  the  pines.  Leger,  who  had 
heard  his  approach,  took  the  pack-horses'  bridles,  and  In- 
gleby stood  stupidly  still,  blinking  at  him. 

"I've  got  it,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  flour.  "Where  is 
it  to  go  ?    I'll  give  you  a  hand  to  heave  it  down." 

Leger  laughed  and  pointed  to  the  shanty.  "  Go  right  in. 
I'll  manage  the  bags  myself,"  he  said.  "Tomlinson  and 
the  boys  have  been  up  and  built  us  a  new  store-shed." 

Ingleby  turned  towards  the  shanty,  and  as  he  neared 
the  doorway  a  slim  figure  cut  against  the  light,  and  a  hand 
was  stretched  out  to  draw  him  in.  Then  he  felt  a  little 
thrill  run  through  him  as  he  stood  in  the  welcome  warmth 
with  Hetty  looking  up  at  him.  There  was  an  almost  ma- 
ternal gentleness  and  compassion  in  her  eyes,  for  Ingleby' s 
face  was  a  trifle  grey  and  the  water  ran  from  him.  Then 
she  turned  swiftly  and  thrust  an  armful  of  clothing  upon 
him. 

"Put  them  on  this  minute;  they're  warm  and  dry. 
There's  a  light  in  the  new  shed,"  she  said.  "Then  come 
back  here.    You're  not  to  go  outside  again." 

Ingleby  was  glad  to  obey  her,  and  when  he  came  back 
Hetty  had  drawn  a  rude  chair  of  deerhide  towards  the  fire. 

"Sit  down,  and  don't  worry  about  trying  to  talk,"  she 
said. 

Ingleby  sank  wearily  into  the  chair,  and  lay  there  in  a 
state  of  blissful  content  watching  her  with  half -closed  eyes. 


112  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

It  was  an  inestimable  luxury  to  be  free  from  the  chill  of 
his  saturated  clothing  and  feel  the  warmth  creep  through 
him,  but  by  degrees  he  became  sensible  that  his  content- 
ment had  more  than  a  physical  origin.  The  soft  rustle  of 
Hetty's  dress  was  soothing  as  she  laid  out  a  simple  meal ; 
her  quick,  light  footsteps  suggested  a  gratifying  anxiety  to 
minister  to  his  comfort;  and  he  found  the  fashion  in  which 
she  smiled  at  him,  as  she  did  once  or  twice,  especially 
pleasant.  Hetty  had  a  spice  of  temper  and  a  will  of  her 
own,  but  she  was  also  endued  with  the  kindliness  which 
makes  up  for  a  good  many  deficiencies.  Ingleby  turned 
his  head  at  last  and  looked  at  her  languidly. 

"You  make  this  shanty  feel  like  home — though  it  is  a 
very  long  while  since  I  had  one,"  he  said. 

Hetty  flushed,  ever  so  slightly,  and  Ingleby  naturally 
did  not  notice  it. 

"We  have  been  making  improvements  since  you  left," 
she  said.  "It  really  doesn't  need  very  much  to  make  a 
place  look  comfortable." 

Ingleby  appeared  reflective.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  sup- 
pose it  doesn't.  I  don't  know  how  you  manage  it,  Hetty, 
but  everything  seems  just  as  one  would  like  it  when  you 
arrange  it.  Still,  that's  not  quite  what  I  mean  either.  I'm 
really  not  sure  I  know  what  I  do  mean — you  see,  I'm 
sleepy." 

Hetty  stopped  close  beside  him  and  looked  down  with  a 
little  smile,  though  there  was  just  a  shade  more  colour  than 
nsual  in  her  face. 

"You  are  worn  out,  and  needn't  worry  about  it  until  you 
have  had  supper,"  she  said.  "If  I  had  known  you  would 
come  back  like  this  I  would  never  have  let  you  go." 

"Still,  you  wanted  the  flour." 

"I  didn't  mean  you  to  wear  yourself  out  to  save  those  lazy 
miners  from  baking  their  own  bread." 

Ingleby  shook  his  head.  "I  shall  be  all  right  to-morrow, 
and  I'm  going  to  talk,"  he  said.    "That  wasn't  why  you 


INGLEBY'S  REMONSTRANCE  113 

sent  me.  One  doesn't  start  a  bakery  out  of  philan- 
thropy. " 

"Well,"  said  Hetty,  "you  know  I  wanted  the  money." 

"For  Tom  and  me!"  said  Ingleby  reproachfully.  "I 
felt  horribly  mean  about  it  all  the  way  to  the  settlement." 

"Is  it  very  unpleasant  then  to  let  me  do  anything  for 
you  ?" 

"No,"  said  Ingleby.  "That  is,  of  course,  it's  generally 
very  nice.    Still,  in  this  ease " 

Hetty  looked  at  him  curiously.  "Oh,  I  know!  Still, 
you  seemed  quite  angry  once  because  I  didn't  care  to  let 
you  lend  Tom  the  money  to  bring  us  out." 

"That,  of  course,  was  very  different." 

Hetty  smiled.  "Yes,"  she  said.  "When  one  is  a  girl  it 
usually  is." 

Ingleby,  who  was  very  drowsy,  did  not  seem  quite  sure 
what  to  make  of  this,  and  gazed  meditatively  at  the  fire. 

"That  stone  hearth  wasn't  there  when  I  left,"  he  said. 
"Who  made  it,  Hetty?" 

"Tomlinson.  Tom  went  round  to  tell  the  boys  about  the 
bakery,  and  Tomlinson  came  over  to  show  him  how  to 
build  the  oven." 

"And  he  made  this  chair?  Now  I  think  of  it  we  hadn't 
one  before,  and  Tom  certainly  didn't  make  it.  It's  too 
comfortable." 

"Yes,"  said  Hetty. 

"And  he  built  the  new  shed?" 

"He  certainly  did!" 

Ingleby  seemed  by  no  means  pleased.  "It  seems  to  me," 
he  said  severely,  "that  Tomlinson  has  been  doing  a  good 
deal  here.  Now,  you  ought  to  know  that  when  you  want 
any  improvements  made  you  have  only  to  ask  Tom  and 
me." 

"Could  you  build  a  chimney  like  that  one?" 

"No,"  said  Ingleby  decisively.  "If  I  must  be  honest,  I 
don't  think  I  could.    Still,  there  wasn't  the  least  occasion 


114.  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

to  ask  Tomlinson.  He  must  have  been  here  more  than 
once  ?" 

"I  believe  he  was  here  three  or  four  times." 

"Why  did  he  come  so  often?" 

Hetty  laughed.  "He  said  it  was  to  see  how  Tom  was 
getting  on  with  the  oven." 

"Of  course!"  said  Ingleby.  "Well,  I  suppose  one  ex- 
cuse was  as  good  as  another.  One  would,  however,  fancy 
that  Tomlinson  had  quite  enough  to  do  looking  after  his 
mine." 

Hetty  flashed  a  swift  glance  at  him,  but  Ingleby  was  not 
looking  at  her.  He  was  too  drowsy  to  be  quite  sure  of  what 
he  felt,  but  the  fact  that  Tomlinson  had  been  there  on  sev- 
eral occasions  was  far  from  pleasing  him.  Just  then  Tom 
Leger  came  in  with  the  kettle  which  he  had  boiled  on  the 
fire  outside,  and  Ingleby  roused  himself. 

"I  suppose  you  have  struck  nothing  on  the  claim?"  he 
said. 

"No,"  said  Leger.  "Only  a  trace  of  colour,  but  I  don't 
want  to  talk  of  that  to-night.  You  can  tell  us  about  your 
journey  when  you  have  had  supper." 

Ingleby  did  so,  though  the  narrative  was  distinctly  tame 
in  its  unvarnished  conciseness  until  he  came  to  his  meeting 
with  Esmond.  He  had  no  desire  that  Hetty  should  know 
what  he  had  endured  on  her  account,  while  it  is,  after  all, 
difficult  to  make  another  person  understand  what  one  feels 
like  when  worn-out  to  the  verge  of  exhaustion.  Ingleby 
did  not  attempt  it,  but  his  tone  changed  a  trifle  as  he  tried 
to  picture  the  policeman  floundering  in  the  river.  Leger 
laughed  softly,  but  the  firelight  showed  a  little  flash  in 
Hetty's  eyes. 

"Splendid!"  she  said,  and  her  voice  had  a  little  vindic- 
tive ring. 

Leger  looked  up  with  a  whimsical  smile. 

"You  appear  almost  as  angry  with  the  man  as  Walter 
was,"  he  said. 


INGLEBY'S  REMONSTRANCE  115 

"Well,"  replied  Hetty  sharply,  "so  I  am." 

It  did  not  occur  to  Ingleby  to  wonder  why  the  fact  that 
the  policeman  had  attempted  to  drive  him  off  the  trail 
should  cause  her  so  much  indignation,  and  when  Hetty 
abruptly  asked  a  question  calculated  to  give  a  different 
trend  to  the  subject  Leger  answered  her. 

"I  fancy  I  should  have  endeavoured  to  let  him  scrape  by 
if  I  had  been  there,"  he  said.  "Crowding  a  police  officer 
of  that  kind  into  a  river  may  be  soothing  to  one's  ruffled 
temper,  but  I  can't  help  concluding  that  it's  likely  to  turn 
out  expensive." 

Ingleby  did  not  answer  this,  and  shortly  afterwards  re- 
tired to  the  tent,  where  he  spent  the  next  ten  hours  in 
dreamless  sleep.  He  rose  a  little  later  than  usual  next 
morning,  but  did  his  accustomed  work  at  the  mine,  though 
Leger  fancied  he  was  a  trifle  preoccupied  during  most  of 
the  day.  Shortly  before  they  left  their  task  in  the  evening 
they  saw  Tomlinson  climbing  the  trail  to  their  camp  with 
a  heavy  burden  on  his  shoulders.  The  miner  had  ap- 
parently got  rid  of  it  when  they  met  him  coming  back,  and 
smiled  in  a  deprecatory  fashion  in  answer  to  Ingleby's  in- 
quiring glance. 

"I  struck  a  fir  that  was  full  of  resin  knots  when  I  was 
chopping  props,"  he  said.  "It  kind  of  struck  me  Miss 
Leger  would  have  some  use  for  them  at  the  bakery,  and  I 
just  took  one  or  two  along." 

Ingleby  appeared  rather  more  reflective  than  ever  when 
the  big  miner  went  on,  and  finally  laid  his  hand  on  his 
companion's  shoulder. 

"  Of  course,  it's  not  exactly  my  business,  but  are  you  wise 
in  encouraging  that  man  to  prowl  about  the  shanty  con- 
tinually, Tom?"  he  said. 

Leger  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  "I'm  not  aware  of 
having  done  it,  but  if  it  pleases  him  to  come  there  why 
shouldn't  he?" 

"I  suppose.it  doesn't  occur  to  you  that  there  is  anything 


116  DELILAH  OF  THE   SNOWS 

■unusual  in  the  fact  that  a  man  whose  time  is  worth  a  good 
deal  just  now  should  spend  several  hours  of  it  hacking  pine 
knots  out  of  trees  and  then  scramble  two  miles  with  as 
much  as  a  horse  could  carry  on  his  back  over  an  infamous 
trail?" 

"You  mean  that  he  does  not  do  it  to  please  you  or  me?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ingleby.  "That  is  it  exactly.  Of  course, 
I  know  I'm  taking  an  unwarranted  liberty,  but  if  I  had  felt 
that  Hetty  could  have  had  any  liking  for  him  I  should  not 
have  mentioned  it  to  you.  Still,  don't  you  think  it  might 
be  better  if  she  didn't  see  so  much  of  him?" 

Leger  laughed.  "So  far,  at  least,  she  hasn't  shown  the 
smallest  sign  of  recognizing  the  merits  of  the  fortunate 
Tomlinson." 

Ingleby  looked  down  across  the  pines.  "We  are  old 
friends,  and  you  won't  mind  my  saying  that  I'm  very  glad." 

"Well,"  said  Leger,  who  glanced  at  him  sharply,  "I  can't 
quite  see  why  you  should  be.  The  man  has  an  excellent 
character,  and  I  like  him.  He  has  also,  what  some  folks 
would  consider  of  as  much  importance,  a  profitable  mine." 

"Still,  he  isn't  half  good  enough  for  her,"  persisted 
Ingleby. 

Leger  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  and  during  the  some- 
what embarrassing  silence  his  face  grew  a  trifle  grave.  Then 
he  said  quietly,  "I  fancy  that  is  a  point  for  Hetty  to 
decide." 


XII 

THE  MAJOR'S  BEAR 

T\  ABKKESS  had  closed  down  on  the  hillside,  and  supper 
was  over,  when  Ingleby  and  Leger  lounged  on  a  cedar 
log  outside  the  shanty.  Hetty  lay  close  by  in  the  deer-hide 
chair,  and  Tomlinson  had  stretched  his  long  limbs  just 
clear  of  the  fire.  He  lay  placidly  smoking,  with  no  more 
than  an  occasional  deferential  glance  at  Hetty.  Now  and 
then  the  flickering  firelight  touched  his  face  and  showed 
the  harsh  lines  of  its  rugged  chiselling  and  the  steadiness 
of  his  contemplative  eyes.  Tomlinson,  it  was  generally 
admitted,  could  do  more  with  axe  and  shovel  than  most 
of  the  men  in  that  valley,  but  a  certain  deliberateness  of 
speech  and  gesture  characterized  him  in  repose.  He  was  a 
man  who  worked  the  harder  when  it  was  necessary  because 
he  seldom  wasted  an  effort. 

It  was  slowly  he  raised  his  head  and  glanced  at  Hetty. 
"The  boys  can  get  away  with  another  twenty  loaves  this 
week,"  he  said.  "Jake  figured  you'd  have  seven  or  eight 
more  of  them  from  the  gully  workings  coming  in.  They 
told  him  they'd  no  use  for  flapjacks  or  grindstones  when 
they  could  get  bread  like  that." 

"Very  well,"  said  Hetty.  "I'll  have  an  extra  batch  ready 
on  Saturday." 

She  cast  a  little  quick  glance  at  Ingleby,  for  it  was  grati- 
fying that  he  should  have  this  testimony  to  the  quality  of 
her  bakery,  though  it  was  scarcely  necessary.  The  venture 
had,  in  fact,  been  a  success  from  the  commencement,  and 
though  Hetty's  flour  was  rapidlv  running  out  she  found  it 

117" 


118  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

just  as  profitable  to  bake  what  the  miners  brought  her  at 
a  tariff  which  in  few  other  regions  would  have  been  thought 
strictly  moderate.  She  was  also  as  popular  as  her  bread,  for 
she  turned  nobody  away,  though  there  were  men  in  that 
valley  with  neither  money  nor  provisions  left  who  had  failed 
to  find  even  the  colour  of  gold.  Her  boys,  she  said,  would 
strike  it  rich  some  day,  and  one  must  risk  a  little  now  and 
then;  but  it  is  not  given  to  many  women  to  win  the  faith 
and  homage  accorded  her  by  most  of  them  in  return  for  a 
handful  of  flour.  Tomlinson,  however,  had  not  delivered 
all  his  message  yet. 

"I  ran  up  against  Wolverine  Gordon  yesterday,"  he  said. 
"He  wants  more  salt  in  his  bread.  Says  that  sweet  dough's 
ruining  his  digestion,  and  if  you  can't  fix  it  to  suit  him  he'll 
do  his  own  baking.  I  guess  I'd  let  the  old  insect  have  his 
salt  by  the  handful." 

Hetty  laughed  good-humouredly.  "I  must  try  to  please 
him." 

Tomlinson  watched  her  with  grave,  reflective  eyes. 
"Gordon  was  'most  glad  to  eat  cedar  bark  not  long  ago," 
he  said.    "Did  you  ever  get  a  dollar  out  of  him  ?" 

"That,"  said  Hetty  quietly,  "is  not  your  business,  Mr. 
Tomlinson." 

The  long-limbed  miner  apparently  ruminated  over  this. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  guess  it  isn't,  but  you  just  let  me 
know  when  you  want  any  debts  collected.  I  figure  I  could 
be  quite  smart  at  it." 

"They  do  it  with  a  gun  in  your  country?"  asked  Leger. 

Tomlinson  held  up  a  hard  and  distinctly  large-sized 
hand.  "No,  sir!  If  ever  I  get  that  on  one  of  the  fakirs 
who  sling  ink  at  us  I  guess  I'll  make  my  little  protest." 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  during  it  the 
beat  of  hoofs  came  out  of  the  valley.  They  drew  nearer, 
and  Tomlinson  laughed  softly  as  he  glanced  at  the  listeners' 
faces. 

"Hall  Sewell !    He's  coming  back,"  he  said. 


THE  MAJOR'S  BEAR  119 

"Mr.  Sewell  is  across  the  divide  ever  so  far  away,"  said 
Hetty. 

"Well,"  said  the  big  prospector,  "that  cayuse  of  his  is 
coming  up  the  trail  'most  too  played  out  to  put  its  feet 
down." 

It  was  five  minutes  later  when  Sewell  appeared  leading 
the  horse,  which  was  in  almost  as  sorry  a  case  as  he  was. 
His  jean  garments  hung  about  him  torn  to  rags,  and  his 
face  was  gaunt  and  drawn  with  weariness  and  hunger.  He 
stood  still,  smiling  at  them,  in  the  uncertain  light  of  the 
fire. 

"I've  come  back — warned  off  by  the  police  as  usual," 
he  said.  "In  the  language  of  the  country,  nobody  seems 
to  have  any  use  for  me." 

The  naive  admission  appealed  to  Hetty  as  much  as  the 
signs  of  privation,  which  were  plain  upon  him,  did,  and 
stirred  her  more  than  any  account  of  a  successful  mission 
would  have  done.  Sewell  was,  perhaps,  aware  of  this,  for 
he  had  the  gift  of  pleasing  women. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "where  else  would  you  come  to?  When- 
ever you  want  it  there's  room  here  for  you.  Walter,  take 
his  horse,  and  then  spread  his  blankets  out  near  the  fire. 
Tom,  you'll  get  another  trout  and  fill  the  kettle." 

They  did  her  bidding,  though  Ingleby  wondered  a  little 
as  he  set  about  it,  for  Hetty  had  astonished  him  somewhat 
frequently  of  late.  He  had  long  regarded  her  as  a  girl  de- 
void of  intellectuality,  to  be  petted  with  brotherly  kindli- 
ness and  taken  care  of  in  case  of  necessity,  and  it  had  never 
occurred  to  him  until  he  came  to  Canada  that  there  was 
any  depth  of  character  in  Hetty  Leger.  It  was,  in  fact, 
almost  disconcerting  to  find  that  she  had  changed  into  a 
capable  woman  who  had  by  her  enterprize  alone  enabled  him 
and  her  brother  to  hold  on  to  their  claim.  She  was  vir- 
tually mistress  now,  as  the  commands  she  had  given  him 
indicated;  but,  while  it  afforded  him  a  gratification  he 


120  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

did  not  quite  understand  to  do  her  bidding,  it  was  a  trifle 
difficult  to  accustom  himself  to  the  position. 

In  the  meanwhile  Tomlinson,  who  chafed  inwardly  be- 
cause no  commands  had  been  laid  on  him,  lay,  with  respect- 
ful admiration,  watching  her  prepare  Sewell's  supper. 
When  it  was  ready  Sewell  made  an  excellent  meal,  and  then 
stretched  himself  out  wearily  on  a  pile  of  branches  near 
the  fire.  The  red  light  flickered  uncertainly  upon  the 
towering  trunks  behind  him,  and  now  and  then  fell  upon 
the  long-limbed  Tomlinson  lying  in  the  shadow  and  Hetty 
sitting  in  her  deer-hide  chair  with  Ingleby  and  Leger 
stretched  close  at  her  feet.  It  never  occurred  to  her  that 
there  was  anything  anomalous  in  this.  They  were,  in  the 
phraseology  of  the  country,  her  boys,  and  though  Hetty 
Leger  was  far  from  clever  she  had  the  comprehension  that 
comes  of  sympathy,  and  she  understood  and  ruled  them  as 
a  woman  with  greater  intellect  probably  could  not  have 
done.  The  night  was  cool  and  still,  and  the  hoarse  murmur 
of  the  river  came  up  in  pulsations  across  the  pines. 

"After  a  long  journey  through  the  bush  this  is  excep- 
tionally nice,  even  though  it  is  a  little  rough  on  Miss 
Leger,"  said  Sewell,  with  a  quiet  smile.  "Her  cares  are 
increasing,  for  another  of  her  boys  has  come  home  a  trifle 
the  worse  for  wear  to-night,  but  I  scarcely  think  she  minds. 
It  is  the  women  who  never  do  mind  that  are  worth  all  the 
rest." 

Once  more  Ingleby  was  astonished  and  gratified.  Sewell 
was,  of  course,  a  speaker  by  profession,  but  there  was  a 
vibration  in  his  voice  which  signified  that  this  was  more 
than  a  passing  compliment.  Ingleby  believed  implicitly 
in  Sewell,  and  the  fact  that  the  man  he  looked  up  to  should 
regard  Hetty  as  he  evidently  did  had  naturally  its  effect  on 
him,  since  it  not  infrequently  needs  the  appreciation  of 
others  to  make  clear  the  value  of  that  which  lies  nearest 
to  one.    Hetty,  however,  as  usual  evinced  no  originality. 


THE  MAJOR'S  BEAR  121 

"When  yon  came  in  one  would  have  fancied  it  was  qnite 
a  long  while  since  you  were  a  boy,"  she  said. 

"Now  and  then  I  feel  it  is.  Men  who  lead  the  life  I  do 
grow  old  rapidly,  you  see.  We  are,  in  fact,  nurtured  on 
the  storm,  but  that  is  really  no  reason  why  we  shouldn't 
occasionally  like  to  rest  in  the  sunshine." 

"It  has  been  dark  'most  an  hour,"  said  Tomlinson  the 
practical. 

Sewell  turned  and  glanced  at  him  reproachfully.  "It  is 
always  sunshine  where  Hetty  Leger  is." 

"Well,"  said  Hetty,  with  a  little  laugh,  "you  haven't 
seen  me  when  the  dough  won't  rise,  and  I  don't  like  idle 
bovs.  They  get  into  mischief.  What  are  you  going  to 
do*?" 

"Peg  down  a  claim  and  earn  my  living  virtuously.  I 
have,  you  see,  tried  mining  already.  I  like  this  end  of  the 
valley,  and  because  you  have  made  me  one  of  the  family 
I  fancy  I'll  put  up  a  shanty  here.  That  brings  on  the  ques- 
tion of  provisions,  and  when  I  was  clambering  down  the 
range  I  came  upon  two  or  three  black-tail  deer.  I'm  going 
back  to  get  one  as  soon  as  the  stiffness  has  worn  off  me. 
Will  you  or  Leger  come  with  me,  Ingleby?" 

"Walter  will  go,"  said  Hetty. 

Ingleby  turned  towards  her  slowly,  and  she  noticed  the 
jaded  look  in  his  face,  which  was  a  trifle  hollow  as  well  as 
bronzed.  He  had  toiled  with  a  fierce,  feverish  impatience 
for  long  weeks  at  two  profitless  claims,  and  mind  and  body 
felt  the  strain.  Still,  he  remembered  that  it  was  some 
time  since  he  had  contributed  anything  to  the  common 
fund. 

"I've  ever  so  much  on  hand,"  he  said.    "Send  Tom." 

Hetty  made  a  little  authoritative  gesture.  "Tom  couldn't 
hit  a  deer  to  save  his  life,  and  my  boys  are  expected  to  do 
what  they're  told.  You  will  take  him,  Mr.  Sewell,  and  if 
you  let  him  come  back  to  the  claim  in  less  than  a  week  I'll 
be  vexed  with  yon." 


122  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

Ingleby,  who  knew  that  Hetty  could  be  persistent,  per- 
mitted Sewell  to  arrange  the  expedition;  and  when  the 
latter  retired  shortly  afterwards,  Tomlinson,  who  had  said 
very  little,  looked  up. 

"You  like  that  man  ?"  he  asked. 

"Of  course !"  said  Hetty.  "If  I  hadn't  I  wouldn't  have 
had  him  here." 

Tomlinson  said  nothing  further,  but  Hetty  laughed  when 
he  glanced  inquiringly  at  Ingleby. 

"You  needn't  ask  Walter.  There  are  two  people  he  be- 
lieves in  before  anybody  else,  and  Mr.  Sewell's  one  of 
them." 

"And  I  guess  I  know  who  the  other  is,"  said  Tomlinson, 
who  was  a  trifle  tactless  now  and  then. 

Hetty  looked  at  him  instead  of  at  Ingleby. 

"No,"  she  said  reflectively,  "I  don't  think  you  do.  It 
doesn't  matter  who  she  is,  anyway,  and  you  haven't  told 
me  what  you  think  of  Mr.  Sewell." 

Tomlinson,  who  watched  her  with  steady  eyes,  sat  silent 
a  moment  as  though  ruminating  over  something  he  could 
not  quite  understand.  Then  he  said,  "The  man  has  grit. 
Still,  I  haven't  much  use  for  his  notion  of  going  round 
trailing  out  trouble." 

"It  isn't  difficult  to  find  it,"  said  Ingleby. 

"Well,"  said  Tomlinson,  "I'm  not  going  to  light  out 
when  it  comes  along  my  way;  but  I  guess  I'll  wait  until 
it  does,  like  a  sensible  man,  and  just  now  I  have  no  use  for 
any.  Our  folks  in  Oregon  are  poor,  and  if  my  luck  holds 
out  there's  an  old  woman  who's  had  'bout  as  much  trouble 
as  she  can  bear  going  to  have  an  easy  time  the  rest  of  her 
life." 

He  stopped  a  moment  and  rose  leisurely  to  his  feet. 
"Well,  I'll  go  along  now.  I  guess  Sewell  means  well. 
Good  night." 

He  turned  away,  and  when  he  lumbered  into  the  shadow 
of  the  pines  Leger  smiled  at  Ingleby. 


THE  MAJOR'S  BEAR  123 

"It  seems  to  me  that  Tomlinson's  recommendation  didn't 
go  very  far,"  he  said. 

Ingleby  laughed,  a  trifle  scornfully.  "IKd  yon  expect 
anything  else?  When  a  man  who  conld  have  made  him- 
self almost  anything  he  wished  gives  himself  np  to  a  life  of 
privation  for  the  good  of  his  fellows,  it's  a  little  gained 
when  men  of  Tomlinson's  description  are  willing  to  admit 
that  he  probably  has  good  intentions." 

He  retired  to  sleep  shortly  afterwards,  for  he  and  Leger 
commenced  their  labours  at  sunrise  every  day.  A  week 
later,  towards  dusk  one  evening,  he  and  Sewell  stopped 
near  the  edge  of  a  deep  ravine  some  distance  from  their 
camp  in  the  ranges. 

The  torrent  which  had  worn  it  out  moaned  far  down  in 
the  shadow  below,  and  the  sombre  firs  rolled  up  to  the  edge 
of  it  two  hundred  yards  away.  Thickets  of  tall  fern  and 
salmon-berry  hung  over  the  brink,  and  for  a  score  of  yards 
or  so  a  slope  of  soil  and  gravel  sprinkled  with  tufts  of 
juniper  and  dwarf  firs  ran  down  steeper  than  a  roof.  Then 
it  broke  off  abruptly,  and  from  where  they  stood  Ingleby 
could  not  see  the  bottom  of  the  gulf  beneath,  though  he 
knew  that  the  depth  of  such  canons  is  often  several  hun- 
dred feet.  They  had  left  their  camp  that  morning,  and 
one  small  black-tail  deer,  which  Sewell  had  shot,  was  all 
they  had  to  show  for  a  day  of  strenuous  labour. 

"No  way  of  getting  across  there,"  said  Sewell  as  he  flung 
himself  down  at  the  foot  of  a  cedar.  "It's  a  little  unfor- 
tunate, too,  because  from  what  Tomlinson  said  if s  a  good 
bear  country  on  the  opposite  side.  One  deer  won't  last 
very  long  even  if  we  can  manage  to  dry  it,  and  there  are 
parts  of  the  black  bear  that  are  a  good  deal  nicer  than  you 
might  suppose." 

"Have  you  ever  tried  them?"  asked  Ingleby. 

Sewell  laughed.  "I  have.  In  fact,  I  lived  on  black 
bear  for  rather  longer  than  I  cared  about  when  I  was  up 
in  the  ranges  once  before.    It's  not  unlike  pork.    I  mean 


124  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

the  kind  the  Canadian  nsually  keeps  for  home  consump- 
tion." 

That  a  man,  who  conld  probably  get  nothing  else,  should 
have  lived  on  bear  meat  is,  of  course,  not  necessarily  any 
great  recommendation,  but  the  fact  tended  to  increase 
Ingleby's  respect  for  his  companion.  There  was,  it  seemed, 
very  little  that  Sewell  had  not  done  or  borne  for  the  cause 
of  the  Democracy,  and  Ingleby  had  already  indued  him 
with  the  qualities  of  Garibaldi.  Other  men,  older  and 
shrewder  than  he  was,  are,  however,  occasionally  addicted 
to  idealization;  and  Sewell  could  certainly  ride  and  shoot 
as  well  as  he  could  rouse  the  hopes  and  passions  of  the  mul- 
titude— which  was  a  good  deal.  Ingleby,  who  could  do 
neither,  had  the  Englishman's  appreciation  of  physical  ca- 
pability, and  it  had  once  or  twice  been  a  grief  to  him  to 
discover  that  other  exponents  of  the  opinions  Sewell  helrl 
were  flabby,  soft-fleshed  men  whose  appearance  warranted 
the  belief  that  the  adoption  of  the  simple  laborious  life  they 
lauded  would  promptly  make  an  end  of  them. 

The  hard  and  wiry  Sewell,  who,  while  he  preached  his 
gospel,  earned  his  bread  by  bodily  toil,  a  man  of  comely 
presence  and  finished  courtesy,  Spartanly  temperate  in 
everything  but  speech,  with  unquestioned  physical  as  well 
as  moral  courage,  approached  in  his  opinion  the  Paulinian 
ideal.  It  was,  however,  seldom  that  he  permitted  it  to  be- 
come apparent,  for  Ingleby,  like  most  men  who  shape  their 
lives  by  them,  kept  his  deeper  thoughts  to  himself,  and  on 
that  occasion  he  complained  about  a  boot  which  had  split  in 
an  untimely  fashion  at  a  seam,  until  Sewell  looked  up. 

"Did  you  hear  anything?"  he  asked. 

Ingleby,  who  had  not  lived  very  long  in  the  bush,  natu- 
rally heard  nothing  until  the  sudden  crash  of  a  rifle  was 
flung  back  by  the  hillside.  Then  there  was  a  sharp  smash- 
ing of  undergrowth,  and  it  was  plain  to  him  that  a  beast  of 
eome  description  was  travelling  through  the  bush. 

"A  bear!"  exclaimed  Sewell.    "The  small  black  kind  go 


THE  MAJOR'S  BEAR  125 

straight  at  everything  which  lies  between  them  and  their 
covert.  I  fancy  that  one's  partly  crippled,  too.  It's  your 
shot.  If  he  breaks  cover  you  might  stop  him  for  the  man 
he  belongs  to." 

Ingleby  took  up  the  rifle  he  was  not  greatly  accustomed 
to,  and  waited,  crouching,  with  his  eyes  on  the  forest  and 
one  foot  drawn  under  him  while  the  snapping  and  crack- 
ling drew  nearer,  until  a  shambling  form  lurched  out  of  a 
thicket.  Then,  while  the  foresight,  which  he  could  not  keep 
still,  wobbled  all  over  it,  he  pressed  the  trigger,  or,  at  least, 
attempted  to  do  so  as  the  miner  to  whom  the  rifle  belonged 
had  instructed  him.  He  felt  the  butt  jar  his  shoulder,  and 
the  smoke  blew  in  his  eyes,  while  a  man  burst  out  of  the 
undergrowth.  There  was  no  sign  of  the  bear,  and  Ingleby 
fancied  it  had  plunged  over  the  edge  of  the  ravine.  The 
man  was  red  in  face,  and  gasped  as  he  brandished  his  rifle 
in  their  direction. 

"Who  the  devil  are  you  trying  to  shoot?"  he  said. 

He  did  not  stop,  however;  and  Sewell,  who  recognized 
him  as  Major  Coulthurst,  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  sent  a 
warning  shout  alter  him. 

"Hold  on,  sir.  There's  a  big  gully  right  in  front  of 
you,"  he  said. 

The  major  did  not  seem  to  hear  him,  and  next  moment 
there  was  a  crash  as  he  floundered  through  a  thicket. 
Then  he  disappeared  suddenly,  and  Ingleby  felt  a  little 
shiver  run  through  him  as  he  heard  a  suggestive  rattle  of 
stones. 

"Gone  over!"  he  said  hoarsely.  "Still,  the  top  part's 
not  quite  so  horribly  steep." 

They  made  for  the  spot  at  a  floundering  run,  for  it  is 
a  trifle  difficult  to  travel  fast  imthe  bush,  and  came  gasping 
to  a  rent  in  the  undergrowth  on  the  edge  of  the  gully. 
Ingleby  set  his  lips  as  he  looked  down. 

The  major,  who  looked  up  at  them  with  fear  in  his  eyes, 
lay  full  length  on  the  steepest  part  of  the  slope  beneath, 


126  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

with  both  hands  clenched  upon  a  little  bush  of  juniper. 
Two  or  three  yards  beneath  him  lay  a  shadowy  gulf,  and 
the  dull  roar  of  water  that  came  up  suggested  its  depth. 

"I  think  this  thing  is  coming  out,"  he  said, 

Ingleby  saw  a  diminutive  fir  close  to  the  man,  and  two 
more  between  himself  and  the  edge  of  the  canon,  for  in 
that  country  the  firs  will  grow  on  anything  short  of  an 
upright  wall,  and  next  moment  he  swung  himself  over  the 
edge.  However,  he  did  it  cautiously,  taking  care  to  drive 
his  feet  well  into  the  gravel,  and  finally  contrived  to  slide 
down  to  the  nearest  tree.  Sewell  was  evidently  coming 
down  behind  him,  for  the  stones  went  rattling  by  and  struck 
the  upturned  face  beneath.  It  was  flushed  and  distorted, 
with  swollen  veins  on  the  forehead,  for  the  man  was  evi- 
dently feeling  the  strain. 

"Can  you  hold  on  for  a  minute  or  two,  sir?"  Ingleby 
asked. 

"I  might  manage  one — not  more,"  was  the  hoarse  answer. 

"That  should  do,"  said  Ingleby  reassuringly,  and  letting 
himself  go  again  clutched  at  the  tree  close  above  the  brink 
of  the  declivity.  He  also  grasped  Sewell,  who  was  coming 
down  backwards  amidst  a  shower  of  stones ;  and,  when  he 
arrived  safe,  lay  full  length  with  his  comrade's  hand  upon 
his  waist  and  one  arm  stretched  out.  Nor  did  he  stop  to 
consider  whether  he  could  get  back  to  the  tree  again  when 
the  major  clutched  his  hand. 

"Hold  fast,  and  we'll  pull  you  up,"  he  said. 

Next  moment  a  strenuous  grip  closed  upon  his  hand, 
and  he  felt  his  arm  being  drawn  out  of  its  socket  as  he 
strove  to  bend  his  back.  Coulthurst  was  horribly  heavy  and 
apparently  incapable  of  rendering  him  any  assistance. 
Indeed,  for  a  moment  or  two  he  was  far  from  sure  that  they 
would  not  slide  down  into  the  shadowy  gorge  together. 
He  could  see  the  majors  suffused  face  and  hear  Sewell 
gasping  behind  him. 

Then  Coulthurst,  apparently  by  a  supreme  effort,  raised 


THE  MAJOR'S  BEAR  127 

himself  a  trifle,  and  he  was  a  foot  or  two  nearer  the  fir 
•when  he  lay  prone  again.  Ingleby  fancied  he  could  feel 
his  sinews  cracking,  and  knew  they  would  not  endure  that 
tension  long. 

"Reach  your  left  hand  back!"  said  Sewell  hoarsely. 

Ingleby  did  so,  and  fslt  the  bark  of  the  slender  tree, 
while  Sewell  leaned  out  recklessly  over  him  and  clutched 
Coulthurst's  shoulder.  Then,  for  a  few  seconds,  they 
made  a  very  grim  effort,  until  the  major  got  one  foot  under 
him  and  seized  the  tree.  After  that  there  was  no  great 
difficulty,  and  when  they  dragged  him  out  of  peril  he  lay 
still,  gasping,  for  almost  a  minute.  Then  he  raised  him- 
self so  that  he  could  sit. 

"I  think  my  rifle  went  over,"  he  said.  "Where's  the 
bear?" 

SewelPs  eyes  twinkled,  and  Ingleby  laughed,  as  did  the 
major. 

"Of  course!"  he  said.  "Very  much  obliged,  I'm  sure. 
I  mean  it.    But — where  is — the  bear?" 

Personal  peril  was  not  exactly  a  new  thing  to  the  major, 
who  was  also  a  man  of  fixed  ideas;  but  he  made  a  little 
comprehensive  gesture  when  Sewell  glanced  significantly 
at  the  edge  of  the  precipice. 

"I  don't  know,  sir,  and  really  don't  think  an  attempt 
to  find  out  would  be  advisable,"  he  said. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  never  did  discover  what  became 
of  the  bear;  but  in  the  meanwhile  nobody  said  anything 
further  for  a  moment  or  two.  Then  the  major  rubbed  his 
leg. 

"We  couldn't  very  well  stay  here  all'  night — and  I've 
hurt  my  knee,"  he  said. 

Ingleby  glanced  at  the  almost  precipitous  descent.  "I'm 
afraid  we  couldn't  get  you  up  without  a  rope." 

"I  am  quite  satisfied  that  you  couldn't,  and  don't  pro- 
pose to  let  you  try,"  said  the  major.  "There  are,  however, 
the  pack-horse  lariats  at  my  camp,  and  it  can't  be  more 


128  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

than  two  miles  away.  I  have  a  police  trooper  there.  One 
of  you  could  get  up?" 

Ingleby  fancied  that  it  was  within  his  powers. 

"I'll  try,  sir,  if  it's  only  because  I  believe  I  came  very 
near  shooting  you,"  he  said. 

Coulthurst  laughed.    "You  were  within  an  ace  of  it." 

Ingleby  said  nothing  further,  but  crawled  very  cautiously 
up  the  slope. 


XIII 

ESMOND  ACQUIKES  INFORMATION" 

T  NGLEBY  contrived  to  discover  Coulthurst's  camp,  and 
when  a  police  trooper  carrying  a  stout  lariat  accompan- 
ied him  back  to  the  ravine  they  had  some  little  difficulty 
in  transporting  the  major,  who  was  no  light  weight,  to  the 
surface.  It  was,  however,  safely  accomplished,  and  Ingleby 
was  not  greatly  astonished  to  hear  he  had  in  the  meanwhile 
insisted  upon  their  spending  at  least  that  night  in  his  com- 
modious tent.  Sewell  possessed  the  useful  faculty  of  mak- 
ing a  good  impression  upon  almost  anybody,  and  generally 
exercised  it,  even  when  it  did  not  appear  worth  while. 

They  spent  the  next  day  with  the  major,  who  extended 
them  a  bluff  but  cordial  invitation  to  visit  him  at  his 
official  residence,  which  Ingleby,  for  reasons  of  his  own, 
promised  to  do.  He  was,  however,  a  little  astonished  that 
Sewell,  who  had  not  his  inducement,  and  could  scarcely 
be  expected  to  consider  Major  Coulthurst's  patronage  any 
particular  compliment,  should  evince  an  equal  alacrity, 
Still,  he  did  not  feel  warranted  in  inquiring  his  comrade's 
reasons,  and  promptly  forgot  all  about  it  when  a  few  days 
later  he  and  Leger  bottomed  upon  gold.  It  was  not  a  rich 
find.  Indeed,  they  laboriously  transported  and  washed 
down  a  good  many  hundred-weights  of  debris  in  return  for 
an  insignificant  quantity  of  the  precious  metal ;  but  it  was 
sufficient  to  fill  Ingleby  with  fresh  ardour,  and  he  length- 
ened his  hours  of  toil  until  it  was  with  difficulty  he  dragged 
himself  back  at  night  to  the  camp  on  the  hillside.    Every 

129 


130  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

stroke  of  pick  and  drill  brought  him  so  much  nearer  the 
realization  of  his  aspirations. 

Leger  protested  now  and  then,  but  Hetty,  who  was 
wiser,  said  nothing,  though  there  were  times  when  she 
watched  Ingleby,  who  naturally  never  suspected  it,  with 
anxious  eyes.  The  physical  strain  and  tension  were  com- 
mencing to  tell  on  him,  for  even  the  experienced  placer 
miner  seldom  knows  whether  the  next  few  strokes  of  the 
shovel  will  bring  him  wealth  or  make  it  evident  that  he 
has  thrown  his  toil  away. 

There,  however,  came  an  evening  when  Ingleby  desisted 
early  in  order  to  redeem  his  promise  to  Coulthurst,  and 
when  he  had  made  what  he  felt  was  a  very  insufficient 
toilet  Sewell,  who  had  pegged  out  a  claim  in  the  vicinity, 
arrived  at  the  bakery.  Hetty  and  Leger  were  sitting,  as 
usual  at  that  hour,  beside  the  fire,  and  there  was  a  little 
twinkle  in  the  latter's  eyes  as  he  glanced  at  Sewell. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "Major  Coulthurst  knows  whom 
he  is  to  have  the  pleasure  of  entertaining." 

Sewell  laughed.  "I  felt  it  my  duty  to  inform  him;  but 
my  name  did  not  seem  to  convey  very  much  to  him.  In 
fact,  I  don't  mind  admitting  that  one  could  have  fancied 
he  had  never  heard  of  it.  Then,  having  a  certain  sense  of 
fitness,  I  endeavoured  to  make  him  understand  what  my 
views  were.  They  didn't  appear  to  affect  him  greatly, 
either.  He  was  good  enough  to  predict  that  I  would  prob- 
ably grow  out  of  them." 

"He  hasn't  told  you  all,"  Ingleby  broke  in.  "Major 
Coulthurst  graciously  admitted  that  most  men  are  oc- 
casionally afflicted  with  fancies  of  the  kind  when  they  are 
young.  No  sensible  person  minded  it.  He  had  even  in- 
dulged in  them  himself  when  his  colonel  had  been  unMuly 
hard  on  him,  and  he  seemed  quite  under  the  impression  that 
people  generally  took  to  our  opinions  by  way  of  protest 
when  they  fancied  themselves  badly  used." 

For  a  moment  it  almost  seemed  to  Ingleby  that  Sewell's 


ESMOND  ACQUIRES  INFORMATION     131 

face  hardened,  and  he  remembered  that  his  comrade  had 
appeared  faintly  disconcerted  when  the  major  expressed 
this  view  in  camp.  It  had  naturally  not  occurred  to  In- 
gleby  that  Major  Coulthurst's  deductions,  like  those  of 
other  men  with  no  great  appearance  of  intelligence,  might 
come  near  the  truth  now  and  then.  Hetty,  who  was  look- 
ing at  Sewell,  did  not,  however,  appear  to  notice  anything 
unusual. 

"So  you  told  him  who  you  really  were?"  she  asked. 

Sewell,  for  no  very  evident  reason,  stooped  and  flicked 
a  little  dust  off  one  of  his  boots,  and  it  was  a  few  moments 
later  when  he  looked  up  with  a  smili. 

"I  think  you  heard  me  mention  it,"  he  said.  "You  are 
ready,  Ingleby?" 

Ingleby  stood  up,  with  a  somewhat  rueful  glance,  not 
altogether  unwarranted,  at  his  attire.  He  did  not  know 
what  Hetty  meant,  and  felt  no  great  interest  in  the  ques- 
tion, for  he  had  a  supreme  faith  in  one  man  and  one 
woman,  and  if  he  had  discovered  that  Sewell  had  been 
charged  with  felony  it  would  not  have  concerned  him 
greatly.  He  would  have  believed  in  him,  almost  in  spite 
of  the  evidences  of  his  senses. 

Coulthurst  received  them  cordially  when  they  reached 
his  little  log-built  dwelling,  which  stood  not  far  from  the 
police  outpost  beyond  the  canon  where  a  tremendous  wall 
of  hillside  shut  in  the  adjacent  valley.  That  region,  while 
unpleasantly  remote  from  civilization,  was  still  accessible, 
and  the  Gold  Commissioners'  quarters  were,  considering 
their  situation,  far  from  uncomfortable.  There  was  even 
a  very  artistic  set  of  chessmen  at  which  Coulthurst  glanced 
during  a  pause  in  the  conversation. 

"I  was  once  in  a  native  Indian  state,  and  those  pieces 
are  a  little  memento,"  he  said.  "They  played  the  game 
rather  well  there,  and  I've  had  a  liking  for  it  ever  since." 

Now  Ingleby's  father  had  also  played  chess  well,  and  he 
knew  a  little  of  the  game ;  but  he  was  accustomed  to  yield 


132  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

his  comrade  priority  and  was  more  than  usually  content  to 
do  so  that  evening.  Sewell,  who  seemed  to  understand  this, 
smiled. 

"Fm  afraid  I  should  make  a  very  indifferent  opponent, 
sir,  but  that  is  your  affair,"  he  said. 

Coulthurst  drew  out  a  little  table  with  some  alacrity, 
and  Grace  and  Ingleby  found  a  place  apart  from  them. 
The  latter  made  no  great  attempt  at  conversation,  for  he 
was  worn-out  by  a  long  day's  toil  and  quite  content  to  be 
there  and  listen  to  his  companion.  Ingleby  could  talk  when 
he  felt  prompted  to;  but,  like  other  men  with  the  capacity 
for  strenuous  effort,  he  could  be  silent  without  embarrassing 
himself  or  those  about  him. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  surroundings  had  their  effect  on 
him.  The  soft  light  of  the  big  shaded  lamp  was  pleasant 
after  the  glare  of  the  crackling  fire;  the  hangings  that  hid 
door  and  windows  conveyed  to  one  who  had  lived  as  he 
had  done  a  suggestion  of  comfort  and  luxury ;  and  his  eyes 
did  not  miss  the  fashion  in  which  each  trifle  brought  up 
through  long  leagues  of  forest  on  the  pack-saddle  had  been 
arranged.  Grace  Coulthurst  had  artistic  tastes,  and  she 
had  also,  to  some  extent,  the  means  of  indulging  them. 

It  was,  however,  her  propinquity  that  most  affected  him. 
Her  daintiness  appealed  to  his  senses,  and  the  faint  per- 
fume that  hung  about  her  and  the  touch  of  her  gown  when 
it  brushed  against  him  sent  a  little  thrill  through  him. 
Miss  Coulthurst  was  possibly  not  unaware  of  this,  but  she 
was  none  the  less  gracious  to  him.  Ingleby  was  a  well- 
favoured  man,  and  physical  effort  and  endurance  with  a 
wholesome  singleness  of  purpose  had  set  a  stamp  on  him 
that  almost  amounted  to  distinction.  Athletic  toil  and 
plain  living,  with  the  moral  discipline  which  binds  the 
worn-out  flesh  in  obedience  to  the  will,  have  a  refining 
influence  on  most  men,  and  there  was  in  Ingleby's  gaunt 
face,  steady  eyes,  and  clear,  bronzed  skin  the  faint  sugges- 
tion of  spirituality  which  in  that  country,  at  least,  not  in- 


ESMOND  ACQUIRES  INFORMATION     133 

frequently  characterizes  even  the  placer  miner  of  low 
degree.  Grace  Coulthurst,  who  had  quick  perceptions, 
recognized  it,  hut  naturally  kept  her  impressions  to  herself. 

"Mr.  Sewell  plays  chess  very  well,"  she  said.  "In  fact, 
he  made  what  seemed  to  me  a  really  brilliant  opening." 

"He  is  one  of  the  men  who  do  everything  that  is  worth 
while  well,"  said  Ingleby.  "That  sounds  a  little  compre- 
hensive, but  I  almost  think  it's  no  more  than  the  fact." 

Grace  asked  no  very  pertinent  question  that  Ingleby 
could  remember;  but  she  nevertheless  induced  him  to  speak 
of  his  comrade,  which,  being  simple  of  mind  in  some  re- 
spects, he  had  evident  pleasure  in  doing.  In  the  mean- 
while she  watched  the  man  at  the  chess-table,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  part,  at  least,  of  his  friend's  belief  in 
him  was  justified.  Sewell's  face  was  expressive  and  mobile 
as  well  as  forceful,  and  there  was  a  subtle  suggestive  grace- 
fulness in  his  speech  and  gesture  which  was  not  to  be  found 
in  Ingleby's.    Then  she  smiled,  and  changed  the  subject. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  "why  he  sacrificed  the  castle?" 

"The  knight,"  said  Ingleby  gravely,  "was  certainly 
not  a  very  good  exchange." 

Grace  laughed.  "I  scarcely  think  you  would  ever,  as 
they  say  in  this  country,  go  back  on  a  friend.  My  father, 
as  he  said,  is  fond  of  the  game,  but  that  doesn't  go  very 
far,  after  all." 

"He  plays  it  creditably." 

"And  Mr.  Sewell,  as  you  are  quite  aware,  plays  it 
exceptionally  well.  I  wonder  if  he  realizes  that  the  major 
is  not  fond  of  losing." 

Ingleby  smiled  as  he  again  glanced  round  the  room. 
Then  he  turned  to  her,  the  origin  and  complement  of  its 
refinement,  and  she  read  his  thoughts  without  difficulty. 

"I  scarcely  think  that  anybody  who  knows  how  we  live 
would  blame  him,"  he  said. 

Grace  laughed.  "Then,"  she  said,  "as  I'm  not  quite 
sure  that  I  know,  suppose  you  tell  me." 


134.  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Ingleby  did  so  in  simple  fashion,  and  it  is  probable  that 
most  young  women  would  not  have  found  his  story  enter- 
taining. Grace  Coulthurst,  who  had  lived  in  the  bush,  how- 
ever, had  comprehension  and  could  fill  in  a  good  deal  that 
he  did  not  supply.  It  was  also,  in  its  own  way,  to  one  who 
knew  that  country,  an  epic,  a  recital  of  man's  high  en- 
deavour and  herculean  grapple  with  untrammelled  nature, 
for  in  the  struggle  for  the  subjugation  of  the  wilderness  v 
the  placer  miner  leads  the  van.  The  smothering  rush  of 
slipping  gravel,  the  crash  of  shattered  props  as  the  little 
shaft  closed  up,  and  the  unexpected  fall  of  half-charred 
trees  had  a  place  in  it,  as  well  as  the  monotony  of  toil,  and 
the  girl  listened  gravely. 

"And  you  have  found  the  gold?"  she  said. 

"A  little,"  said  Ingleby,  "but  not  half  enough.  We  have 
failed  to  bottom  quite  on  the  old  creek  bed,  and  are  going 
to  sink  again  or  drive  an  adit." 

The  mention  of  insufficiency  was  in  itself  significant, 
for  though  he  had  spoken  no  word  in  Canada  that  could 
afford  the  slightest  hint  of  the  aspirations  that  had  ani- 
mated him  Grace  was  quite  aware  of  them.  There  are  not 
many  women  who  do  not  know  when  a  man  is  in  love 
with  them. 

"But  there  are  only  two  of  you,  and  it  will  take  you  ever 
60  long,"  she  said. 

"Still,  we  will  get  it  done,"  and  there  was  a  curious 
brightness  in  Ingleby's  eyes. 

Grace  noticed  the  hollowness  of  his  quiet  face  and  the 
leanness  of  his  hard,  scarred  hands.,  and  her  heart  grew 
soft  towards  him.  The  sign  of  the  strain  was  plain  upon 
him,  though  the  breaking  point  had  not  yet  been  reached, 
and  it  was  for  her  that  he  had  done  so  much. 

"And  you  expect  the  effort  will  be  warranted?"  she  said. 

Ingleby  turned  and  looked  at  her  gravely. 

"Men  get  rich  placer  mining  now  and  then,  and  it  might 
happen  to  me,"  he  said.    "In  fact,  I  almost  think  from 


ESMOND  ACQUIRES  INFORMATION     135 

■what  one  or  two  of  the  old  prospectors  tell  me  that  I  am 
going  to  be  successful.  I  don't  know  if  you  will  understand 
me,  but  after  a  life  like  mine  the  probability  of  being  so 
is  a  little  overwhelming." 

There  was  a  tension  in  his  voice  which  had  its  effect 
upon  the  girl,  and  she  sat  silent  for  a  moment  or  two  until 
the  major's  voice  broke  sharply  in  on  them. 

"Check!  I  fancied  at  one  time  the  game  was  in  your 
hands,  but  there's  seldom  much  use  in  anticipating  when 
there  are  points  you  can't  foresee,"  he  said. 

Grace  glanced  at  Ingleby,  who  smiled. 

"I'm  afraid  Major  Coulthurst  is  right.  One  can  only 
wait,"  he  said. 

Just  then  there  was  a  tapping  at  the  door,  and  Ingleby 
moved  abruptly  when  Esmond  came  in.  The  officer,  how- 
ever, showed  no  sign  of  astonishment  when  he  saw  who 
was  there,  but  smiled  as  he  looked  at  Grace,  and  turned 
to  the  major. 

"I  have  just  come  across  for  a  few  minutes,  and  will  not 
disturb  you,  sir,"  he  said.  "I  don't  suppose  you  have  any 
objections  to  my  looking  over  your  register?" 

"Xo,"  said  Coulthurst.  "It's  yonder.  Has  anything 
gone  wrong?" 

Esmond's  eyes  rested  for  just  a  moment  on  Sewell. 
"Only  two  or  three  of  the  men  talking  rather  wildly,  sir. 
Somebody  has  been  putting  notions  into  their  heads.  It 
occurred  to  me  I  might  as  well  make  sure  they  all  had  cer- 
tificates." 

"Quite  right!"  said  Coulthurst  appreciatively.  "I  have 
decided  objections  to  their  doing  me  out  of  my  money." 

Esmond  took  down  the  register,  which  was  not  remark- 
ably well  kept,  and  had  some  little  trouble  in  tracing  out 
the  information  he  desired.  At  last,  however,  he  read, 
"  Thomas  Leger,  Free  miner's  certificate,  Five  dollars ;  also 
Five  dollars,  Walter  Ingleby." 

He  made  a  careful  note  of  the  date,  and  then  turned  over 


136  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

the  pages  systematically.  Later  on  he  found,  "Walter 
Ingleby,  Five  dollars,"  hut  there  was  no  further  entry  for 
Leger.  Then  he  put  the  hook  back,  and  the  major  glanced 
at  him. 

"Check!"  he  said.  "I  almost  think  I've  got  you,  Mr. 
Sewell.    You  found  what  you  wanted,  Reggie  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Esmond,  whose  eyes  now  rested  on 
Grace  and  Ingleby.     "I  fancy  I  have." 

He  crossed  the  room  in  a  leisurely  fashion,  and  Ingleby 
rose  when  Grace  turned  to  him. 

"You  have  no  doubt  come  across  Mr.  Ingleby  in  the 
course  of  your  duties,  Reggie,  but  I  should  like  to  present 
him  formally  as  one  of  my  friends,"  she  said. 

Esmond  made  Ingleby,  who  responded  as  briefly,  a  little 
curt  inclination. 

"I  have,"  he  said,  "certainly  met  Mr.  Ingleby  at  least 
twice  already." 

"I  believe  I  remember  one  occasion,"  said  Grace,  with 
a  little  twinkle  in  her  eyes.  She  had  naturally  not  heard 
of  the  second  encounter.  "I'm  not  sure  you  were  in  quite 
as  good  a  temper  as  usual  that  night.  Still,  you  see,  cir- 
cumstances are  very  different  now." 

Esmond  laughed,  but  there  was  a  dryness  in  his  tone 
which  Ingleby  afterwards  remembered. 

"  Circumstances  have  a  trick  of  changing  somewhat  rap- 
idly in  this  country,"  he  said.  "You  have,  I  believe,  bot- 
tomed on  gold,  Mr.  Ingleby?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ingleby. 

"You  struck  it  rich?" 

"No,"  said  Ingleby.  "Still,  the  signs  are  promising. 
We  hope  to  be  more  fortunate  when  we  have  driven  our 
adit." 

"How  long  do  you  expect  to  be  over  it?" 

"It  is  a  little  difficult  to  tell." 

Esmond  appeared  to  reflect,  and  Grace,  who  watched 
him,  did  not  quite  understand  his  face. 


ESMOND  ACQUIRES  INFORMATION     13T 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  suppose  placer  mining  is  always  a 
trifle  uncertain.  One  would  almost  fancy  that  baking  was 
more  profitable.  Your  friend  Miss  Leger  seems  to  be  doing 
well,  or  is  it  your  venture  ?" 

Ingleby  wondered  if  this  was  meant  for  Miss  Coulthurst's 
enlightenment ;  but  he  could  not  very  well  permit  his  dis- 
like of  the  man,  who  would  seize  such  an  opportunity,  to 
become  apparent  then,  and  there  was  also  something  in 
Esmond's  tone  which  suggested  that  he  might,  after  all, 
have  a  different  purpose.  Unfortunately,  he  had  no  notion 
of  what  that  purpose  was. 

"She  is,"  he  said  quietly,  "selling  a  good  deal  of  bread." 

"At  excellent  prices!  Still,  she  probably  deserves  all 
she  gains.  It  would  cost  a  good  deal  to  bring  flour  up. 
How  did  she  get  it?" 

Ingleby  was  a  little  astonished  at  the  man's  persistence, 
and  Grace  noticed  it. 

"Are  you  going  to  turn  baker,  too?"  she  asked. 

Esmond  laughed  in  a  fashion  which  brought  the  blood 
to  Ingleby's  face.     Still,  he  answered  the  man's  question. 

"I  went  down  for  it,"  he  said. 

Just  then  the  major's  voice  broke  in  again.  "A  very 
good  fight,  Mr.  Sewell.  I  scarcely  think  I  could  have 
beaten  you  if  you  hadn't  let  me  see  your  game.  However 
strong  your  position  is,  that  is  very  seldom  wise." 

"Major  Coulthurst,"  said  Esmond,  "is  now  and  then 
astonishingly  accurate.  One  could  generalize  from  such 
a  speech  as  that.  But  to  resume  the  topic,  wasn't  it  a 
little  careless  of  you,  Ingleby  ?  You  invalidate  your  record 
when  you  leave  a  placer  claim." 

Ingleby,  secure,  as  he  fancied,  smiled.  "Leger,"  he  said, 
"holds  a  share  with  me." 

"Of  course!"  said  Esmond,  as  though  the  subject  had 
no  longer  any  interest  to  him.  "  So  you  left  Leger !  Well, 
I  must  get  back  to  the  outpost  now.  Grace,  you  will  ex- 
cuse me." 


138  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

He  went  out,  and  while  Grace  entertained  Ingleby  the 
major  and  Sewell,  who  lost  again,  played  another  game. 
Then  she  made  and  served  them  coffee  with  her  own  hands, 
and  Ingleby,  at  least,  went  back  to  his  tent  filled  with  the 
memory  of  how  she  did  it. 

In  the  meanwhile  Grace,  sitting  by  the  fir«  when  he  had 
gone  away,  glanced  at  her  father. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  "what  you  think  of  Mr.  Sewell?" 

"The  man,"  said  Coulthurst,  "is,  in  spite  of  the  opinions 
he  seems  to  hold,  evidently  a  gentleman ;  I  can't  think  of 
a  more  appropriate  word  for  it.  There  is  also,  I  fancy,  a 
good  deal  more  in  him  than  any  one  who  was  not  good  at 
reading  character  might  suppose.  He  plays  chess  excep- 
tionally well.    In  fact,  almost  as  well  as  I  do." 

Grace  smiled  a  little.  "I  fancied  he  did,"  she  said. 
"Were  you  equally  pleased  with  his  companion?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  major  reflectively.  "He  strikes  me  as 
sensible  and  solid — and  one  has  a  fancy  that  there's  often 
a  screw  loose  somewhere  about  brilliant  men.  They  are 
apt  to — double  up  unexpectedly — when  the  strain  comes. 
The  other  kind  I  always  find  are  more  likely  to  wear  well." 

Grace  laughed,  but  made  no  observation.  Major  Coul- 
thurst, as  she  was  quite  aware,  was  almost  painfully  solid 
himself,  but  he  had,  at  least,  stood  the  rough  usage  of  a 
hard  world  remarkably  well,  and  she  was  disposed  to  admit 
the  correctness  of  his  opinion.  Still,  there  was,  in  spite  of 
his  name,  something  about  Sewell  that  Ingleby  did  not 
possess  which  appealed  to  her. 


XIV 

THE  NECESSAKY  INCENTIVE 

\X7HI~LiE  Ingleby  and  Sewell  made  their  way  back  to 
their  tent  Esmond  sat  thoughtfully  in  his  comfort- 
less room  at  the  outpost,  cigar  in  hand.  He  felt  distinctly 
pleased  with  his  astuteness,  but  he  was  by  no  means  sure 
what  use  he  would  make  of  the  information  Ingleby  had 
somewhat  unwisely  supplied  him.  Esmond  was  merely  a 
capable  police  officer  with  certain  defects  in  his  character, 
and  not  a  clever  scoundrel.  In  fact,  he  had  his  good  points, 
or  he  would  not  have  retrieved  his  credit,  in  a  service  which 
demands  a  good  deal  from  those  who  would  rise  in  it,  after 
becoming  involved  in  difficulties  in  England;  but  he  was 
arrogant,  vindictive,  and  apt  to  be  carried  away  by  his 
passions. 

He  disliked  Ingleby,  and  would  in  any  circumstances 
have  found  it  difficult  to  forgive  the  miner  for  having  twice 
caused  him  to  appear  at  a  disadvantage,  while  the  fact  that 
Grace  Coulthurst  had  shown  Ingleby  some  degree  of  favour 
was  an  almost  worse  offence.  Esmond  had  the  prejudices 
that  occasionally  characterize  men  of  his  station,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  distinctly  unfitting  that  the  Gold  Commis- 
sioner's daughter  should  patronize,  as  he  expressed  it,  a 
placer  miner.  He  was  not  exactly  in  love  with  her,  though 
he  had  once  come  near  being  so,  but  he  cherished  a  tender- 
ness for  her  which  might  in  favourable  circumstances  have 
ripened.  The  circumstances  were  not,  however,  favourable, 
for  there  was  a  certain  stain  on  his  reputation  which  he 
fancied  Major  Coulthurst,  at  least,  remembered. 

139 


140  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

It  was  therefore  pleasant  to  feel  that  he  held  the  whip 
over  the  presumptuous  miner,  and  could  apply  it  when 
advisable,  though  he  had  in  the  meanwhile  no  very  definite 
purpose  of  domg  so.  It  was  not  his  business  to  see  that 
Major  Coulthurst  carried  out  the  mining  laws,  and,  in  any 
case,  Ingleby  had  found  no  gold  that  would  render  the  se- 
questration of  his  claim  a  matter  of  very  much  moment ; 
besides  which  Esmond  reflected  that  it  would  be  consider- 
ably more  congenial  to  humiliate  him  openly  in  person 
instead  of  inflicting  a  malicious  injury  on  him  by  the  hand 
of  another  man.  An  opportunity  would  no  doubt  be  forth- 
coming, and  he  could  afford  to  wait.  With  this  commend- 
able decision  he  flung  his  cigar  away,  and  went  to  bed. 

However,  he  became  a  little  less  sure  that  reticence  was 
advisable  when  he  saw  that  Ingleby  and  Sewell  visited  the 
Gold  Commissioner  every  now  and  then;  and  it  happened, 
somewhat  unfortunately,  that  he  dismounted  to  take  up  a 
stirrup  leather  when  riding  back  to  his  outpost  through  the 
canon  one  evening.  Save  for  the  hoarse  roar  of  the  river 
the  tremendous  hollow  was  very  still,  and  the  sound  of 
voices  came  faintly  up  to  him.  Turning  sharply,  he  made 
out  two  figures  among  the  pines,  and  an  expletive  rose  to 
his  lips  as  he  recognized  them.  One  was  a  miner  in  miry 
long  boots  and  soil-stained  jean,  the  other  a  girl  in  a  light 
dress. 

Esmond's  eyes  grew  a  trifle  vindictive  as  he  watched 
them,  and  though  he  had  one  foot  in  the  stirrup  he  did  not 
obey  the  impulse  that  prompted  him  to  swing  himself  to 
the  saddle  and  ride  away.  Instead  he  led  the  horse  behind 
a  wide-girthed  cedar  and  stood  still,  with  a  trace  of  darker 
colour  in  his  face.  It  was  unfortunate  that  he  did  not 
know  Grace  had  met  Ingleby  by  accident  and  that  he  could 
not  hear  their  conversation  when  they  stopped  for  a  few 
minutes  by  the  edge  of  the  river. 

"You  have  not  been  near  us  for  awhile,"  said  the  girl. 

"I  have  been  busy,  though  I  am  not  sure  that  is  a  very 


THE  NECESSARY  INCENTIVE  141 

good  excuse/'  said  Ingleby.  "Besides,  one  feels  a  little 
diffident — in  the  circumstances — about  presuming  too  much 
on  Major  Coulthurst's  kindness." 

Grace  laughed,  though  she  understood  the  qualification. 
"I  am,  of  course,  not  going  to  press  you,  but  come  when 
•  you  wish.  The  major,  if  one  might  mention  it,  rather  ap- 
proves of  you,  and  when  he  and  Mr.  Sewell  play  chess 
there  is  nobody  to  talk  to  me." 

Ingleby,  who  had  sense  enough  to  take  this  admission 
for  what  it  was  worth,  looked  thoughtful. 

"Sewell,"  he  asked,  "has  been  there  without  me?" 

"Once  or  twice." 

"Then  he  certainly  never  mentioned  it  to  me." 

"Does  he  give  you  an  account  of  everything  he  does?" 
and  Grace  laughed.  "How  is  your  work  at  the  mine  pro- 
gressing ?" 

"Slowly.  In  fact,  considering  our  appliances,  we  have 
had  almost  overwhelming  difficulties  to  contend  with. 
Still,  one  could  scarcely  expect  you  to  be  interested  in 
them." 

"I  am,  however,"  and  there  was  a  faint  but  subtle  sug- 
gestion of  sympathy  in  the  girl's  voice  that  sent  a  thrill 
through  him. 

It  cost  him  an  effort  to  hold  himself  in  hand ;  but  Ingleby 
had  been  taught  restraint  in  Canada,  one  sign  of  which  was 
that  he  seldom  inflicted  his  opinions  on  other  people.  He 
had  decided  that  it  would  be  time  to  let  his  aspirations 
become  apparent  when  he  had  found  the  gold  and  made 
himself  a  position;  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  the  girl 
was  probably  quite  aware  of  them  already.  It  was  not  an 
easy  thing  to  hide  them,  and,  though  he  was  growing  ac- 
customed to  the  discipline,  the  topic  she  had  suggested  was 
a  safe  one. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "the  gold  we  expect  to  strike  lies  in 
what  was  presumably  an  ancient  river  bed,  though  there  is, 
strange  to  say,  very  little  of  it  in  the  Green  Eiver  now.    It 


142  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

was  probably  deposited  there  thousands  of  years  ago,  and 
it  is  evident  that  we  have  struck  only  the  outer  edge  of  the 
patch  of  sand  and  gravel  containing  it.  We  tried  tunnel- 
ling, but  twice  the  soil  came  in  and  nearly  buried  Leger, 
and  at  Tomlinson's  advice  we  sank  another  shaft.  All  the 
work  had  to  be  done  again,  and  we  often  go  on  half  the 
night  now.  It  is,  I  think,  only  a  question  if  we  can  hold 
out  long  enough,  f»r  winter  is  coming.  Still,  it — must — 
be  done." 

He  had  not  purposed  to  indulge  in  more  than  a  very 
matter-of-fact  narration,  and  had,  in  one  respect,  certainly 
not  exceeded  this ;  but  there  was  a  curious  ring  in  his  voice ; 
and  Grace  understood  his  thoughts  as  she  flashed  a  swift 
glance  at  him.  His  face,  which  was  a  trifle  haggard,  had 
grown  intent,  and  the  little  glint  in  his  eyes  had  its  mean- 
ing. Grace  Coulthurst  recognized,  as  Hetty  Leger  had  done 
some  time  earlier,  that  Ingleby  was  toiling  harder  than  was 
wise.  She  also  knew  as  well  as  if  he  had  told  her  what  pur- 
pose animated  him.  Still,  she  had  no  intention  of  ad- 
mitting it  just  then. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "you  should  be  careful  not  to  do 
too  much,  and  if  you  are  going  back  to  work  to-night  you 
must  come  no  farther. 

Ingleby  protested,  but  Grace  was  resolute,  and,  turning, 
left  him  standing  in  the  trail.  She  walked  homewards 
thoughtfully  with  a  faint  trace  of  colour  in  her  face,  for 
the  man's  unexpressed  devotion  had  stirred  her.  Then,  in 
a  somewhat  unfortunate  moment,  she  looked  up  and  saw 
Esmond  waiting  beside  the  trail  for  her.  A  glance  at  his 
face  sufficed  to  show  her  that  he  was  quite  aware  she  had 
not  come  there  alone,  and  roused  in  her  a  curious  sense  of 
antagonism.  It  had  become  evident  to  her  already  that  he 
bore  no  particular  good  will  toward  Ingleby. 

"The  view  is  really  worth  even  your  attention,"  she  said. 

Esmond  knew  what  the  suggestion  of  hardness  in  her 
tone  meant,  and  smiled  as  he  glanced  down  the  froth- 


THE  NECESSARY  INCENTIVE  143 

smeared  river  towards  the  tremendous  rift  in  the  rocks 
through  which  it  thundered.  Beyond  it  the  mists  were 
streaming  across  the  deep  valley  and  crawling  filmily 
athwart  the  pines  that  climbed  in  serried  battalions  to- 
wards the  gleaming  snow. 

"It  is.  In  fact,  I  scarcely  think  I  could  improve  on  it ; 
but  it  was  not  the  view  that  kept  me  here,"  he  said. 

"No?"  and  Grace's  voice  was  a  trifle  harder  still. 

Esmond  looked  at  her  steadily.  "I  had,"  he  said,  "the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  coming  down  the  canon — a  little 
while  ago." 

His  meaning  was  very  plain,  but  he  had  given  her  an 
opportunity,  for  Grace  had  noticed  that  the  cedar  he  stood 
near  was  great  of  girth  and  the  undergrowth  was  trampled 
at  one  side  of  it.  The  man  winced  as  she  moved  forward 
a  little  and  glanced  at  it. 

"I  suppose,"  she  asked,  with  quiet  contempt,  "that  was 
why  you  thought  it  necessary  to  lead  your  horse  out  of 
the  trail?" 

Esmond,  who  had  not  expected  affairs  to  take  this  turn, 
fumed  inwardly.  He  was  not  quite  sure  why  he  had 
stayed  there  at  all,  but  in  his  indignation  he  had  become 
possessed  by  a  vague  and  very  senseless  notion  that  a 
friendly  remonstrance  might  be  admissible,  and,  at  least, 
afford  him  an  opportunity  for  expressing  his  opinion  of 
Ingleby.  He  was,  of  course,  by  no  means  a  clever  man, 
and  angry  at  the  time,  or  he  would  never  have  made  that 
mistake;  but  his  purpose  was  not  altogether  a  base  or 
selfish  one.  Grace  Coulthurst,  who  was  of  his  own  station, 
must,  he  felt,  be  guarded  against  herself,  and,  since  there 
was  apparently  nobody  else  available,  he  undertook  the  task. 
He  became  vindictive,  however,  when  he  realized  that  it 
would  be  difficult  to  carry  out  his  commendable  purpose. 

"I  think  we  need  not  go  into  that,"  he  said.  "Perhaps 
I  did  wrong,  but  it  would  only  lead  us  away  from  the  topic 
I  want  to  talk  about.    Has  it  occurred  to  you  that  unless 


144.  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

you  put  a  stop  to  his  presumption  that  miner  fellow  might 
get  ideas  into  his  head?" 

Grace  appreciated  his  courage  in  persisting,  especially  in 
view  of  the  result  of  her  previous  thrust;  but  while  she 
was  not  exactly  sure  of  her  sentiments  towards  Ingleby,  he 
was,  at  least,  the  man  who  loved  her,  which  counted  a  good 
deal  in  his  favour.  Esmond,  she  was  quite  aware,  chiefly 
loved  himself. 

"Isn't  that  a  trifle  vague?  What  ideas  do  you  mean?" 
she  asked. 

Esmond  stood  silent  a  moment  or  two,  for  his  task  was 
becoming  unpleasantly  difficult;  but  his  bitterness  against 
Ingleby  rashly  determined  him  to  go  on. 

"I  should  prefer  not  to  be  more  definite — and  I'm  not 
sure  that  it  is  necessary,"  he  said.  "Still,  one  might,  per- 
haps, venture  to  warn  you  that  the  miners  and  my  troopers, 
who,  of  course,  have  eyes,  have  already  found  an  enter- 
taining topic." 

Grace  Coulthurst's  face  grew  a  trifle  colourless  with 
anger,  though  she  did  not  quite  believe  him. 

"So  you  can  listen  while  your  policemen  discuss — me?" 
she  said. 

"No,"  said  Esmond  unguardedly.  "I  would  have  risked 
my  commission  by  thrashing  the  man  I  heard  mention 
you." 

A  sardonic  gleam  crept  into  Grace's  eyes.  "Then,  since 
you  haven't  done  it,  it  is  a  little  difficult  to  understand  how 
you  could  be  aware  of  what  they  are  saying." 

The  man's  embarrassment  was  evident,  but  it  lasted  only 
a  moment,  and  he  made  a  little  abrupt  gesjhire. 

"I'm  no  match  for  you  at  this  game,  Grace,"  he  said. 
"Of  course,  I'm  taking  a  great  liberty,  but  if  you  think 
a  little  you  might  find  some  excuse  for  me." 

"  For  playing  the  spy  on  me  ?" 

Esmond's  lips  set  tight,  and  the  bronze  in  his  cheeks 
took  on  a  still  deeper  tinge ;  but  there  was,  as  is  usually  the 


THE  NECESSARY  INCENTIVE  14-5 

case,  good  as  well  as  evil  in  him,  and  he  was  to  some  extent 
endeavouring  just  then  to  discharge  what  he  considered  a 
duty. 

"I  suppose  I  deserve  it,  and  I  am  in  your  hands,  but  you 
can  be  angry  with  me  afterwards  if  you  will  let  me  speak. 
We  are  old  friends,  and  I  feel  that  implies  a  certain  re- 
sponsibility. There  is  nobody  else  in  this  country  except 
the  major  who  would  concern  himself  about  you,  and  he, 
with  all  due  respect  to  him,  seldom  sees  beyond  his  nose." 

There  was  a  suggestion  of  genuine  solicitude  in  his  voice 
now,  but  Grace  was,  unfortunately,  far  from  being  con- 
ciliated. 

''And  you  possess  the  faculty  of  seeing  very  much 
farther?" 

Esmond  made  a  little  deprecatory  gesture.  "In  this 
case,  at  least.  You  see,  I  know  the  presumption  of  those 
half-trained  fellows  of  Ingleby's  description,  and  I  would 
like  to  save  you  the  unpleasantness  I  think  you  are  court- 
ing. There  are  times  when  one  has  to  be  candid.  The 
fellow  is  quite  capable  of  fancying  you  are  in  love  with 
him." 

He  stopped,  for  there  was  a  red  spot  of  anger  in  Grace 
Coulthurst's  cheek,  which  was  otherwise  curiously  colour- 
less. 

"I  think,"  she  said  incisively,  "you  had  better  change 
the  topic.    You  have  gone  quite  far  enough." 

Esmond  gazed  at  her  with  evident  appreciation.  She 
had  never  seemed  so  alluring  to  him  as  she  did  just  then 
while  she  stood  very  straight  in  front  of  him  quivering  a 
little  with  ill-suppressed  anger.  In  fact,  he  felt  very  far 
from  sure  that  he  was  not  in  love  with  her.  Still,  he 
persisted. 

"It  would  have  been  less  preposterous  had  he  been  a 
man  with  any  education  or  nicety  of  feeling;  but  ycu  have 
even  to  take  his  antecedents  on  trust,  and  a  good  many  of 
the  men  here  have  a  somewhat  astonishing  historv." 


146  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Grace  stopped  him  with  a  little  imperious  gesture.  "I 
have  heard  enough/'  she  said.  "In  fact,  a  good  deal  more 
than  I  shall  probably  ever  forgive  you.  Besides,  it  was 
scarcely  advisable  of  you  to  allude  to  other  people's  ante- 
cedents. One  would  have  fancied  that  you  had  a  better 
memory." 

Esmond  closed  one  of  his  hands,  for  he  had  almost  hoped 
that  Grace  had  not  heard  of  the  little  discreditable  affair  in 
England.  The  contempt  in  her  face  made  the  fact  that  he 
had  deceived  himself  unpleasantly  plain. 

"I  scarcely  think  that  is  quite  what  one  would  have 
expected  from  you,"  he  said.  "A  little  charity  is  always 
advisable — and  you  may  find  it  indispensable." 

He  swung  himself  into  the  saddle,  and  Grace  went  on 
alone,  well  content  that  he  had  gone,  but  nevertheless  won- 
dering whether  she  had  ventured  too  far  on  Ingleby's  be- 
half, for  she  realized  that  the  rejoinder  which  had  closed 
the  discussion  was  not  altogether  excusable.  She  did  not 
care  to  ask  herself  why  Esmond's  insinuations  should  have 
stirred  her  to  an  indignation  that  was  stronger  than  her 
sense  of  what  was  fitting. 

Esmond  rode  back  to  the  outpost  furious,  and,  since  he 
could  not  retaliate  on  the  girl,  decided  to  seize  the  first 
opportunity  for  injuring  the  man,  and  he  had  reasons 
for  believing  that  one  would  shortly  be  offered  him.  It  is, 
however,  probable  that  he  would  never  have  profited  by  it 
had  not  the  girl  stung  him  to  vindictive  passion.  It  was, 
though  she  was  not  aware  of  it,  by  no  means  a  kindness 
Grace  Coulthurst  had  done  Ingleby. 


XV 

INGLEBY  STRIKES  IT  RICH 

T  T  was  late  at  night,  but  the  red  light  of  a  fire  flickered 
among  the  trunks  where  a  creek  swirled  across  the 
bottom  of  the  valley,  and  Leger,  who  had  just  flung  fresh 
branches  upon  it,  leaned  against  the  rude  windlass  at  the 
head  of  the  adjacent  shaft.  The  roar  of  the  river  seemed 
to  have  sunk  to  a  lower  tone  that  night,  and  save  for  its 
dull  reverberations  there  was  deep  silence  among  the  pines 
across  which  the  fleecy  mists  were  drifting.  It  seemed  to 
emphasize  the  harshness  of  the  persistent  clink  of  the  pick 
which  broke  sharply  though  the  stillness  of  the  night. 

Leger  was  stiff  in  every  joint,  and  his  limbs  were  aching 
from  a  long  day's  labour.  He  was  also  wet  with  the  dew 
and  now  and  then  shivered  a  little,  for  the  night  air  was 
chilled  by  the  snow ;  but  he  scarcely  noticed  this  as  he  lis- 
tened to  the  sound  of  his  comrade's  toil  below.  He  had 
not  Ingleby's  incentive,  but  it  is  probable  that  very  few 
men  would  have  concerned  themselves  much  about  weariness 
or  discomfort  just  then.  The  shaft  they  had  painfully 
driven  had  at  last  reached,  or  was  very  close  upon,  the 
ancient  river  bed,  and  now  any  stroke  of  the  pick  might 
make  the  result  of  their  labour  plain  to  them.  It  might  be 
disastrous  failure  or  a  competence  for  the  rest  of  their  days, 
and  the  oldest  prospector  could  have  done  no  more  than 
guess  at  the  probabilities.  Placer  mining  is  a  gamble  in 
which,  in  the  Northwest,  at  least,  man  stakes  the  utmost 
toil  of  his  body,  and  often  his  life,  on  the  chance  of  finding 
a  very  uncertain  quantity  of  the  precious  metal. 

147 


148  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

At  last  the  tension  grew  almost  unendurable,  and  Leger, 
worn-out  as  he  was,  felt  his  courage  fail  him.  His  body 
craved  sleep,  and  he  dreaded  the  answer  to  the  question 
which  had  occupied  him  ceaselessly  for  the  last  few  days. 
He  felt  that  should  it  be  unfavourable  he  could  hardly  face 
it  then,  and  even  the  harrowing  uncertainty  was  better  than 
a  negative. 

"Come  up,  Walter.    I'm  getting  cold,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  harsh  laugh  below,  and  a  voice  that  sounded 
strained  and  hollow  rose  from  the  shaft. 

"Then  sit  by  the  fire!"  it  said. 

"Come  up!"  said  Leger  sharply.  "If  you  must  have 
the  truth,  I've  borne  about  as  much  as  you  could  expect  of 
me  to-day.    We'll  probably  know  the  result  soon  enough." 

"I  can't  wait,"  said  Ingleby. 

Leger  said  nothing  further.  He  could  not  leave  his  com- 
rade there,  and  he  sat  down  by  the  windlass  with  his  fingers 
trembling  a  little  on  the  pipe  he  did  not  light.  The  faint 
sighing  in  the  fir  tops  had  died  away,  and  only  the  noise  of 
man's  petty  activity  ran  on,  discordant  and,  it  almost 
seemed,  presumptuous.  A  half-moon  hung  above  the 
shoulder  of  a  towering  peak  wrapped  in  a  mantle  of  ever- 
lasting white,  the  river  twinkled  in  the  gloom  below ;  but  it 
counted  for  nothing  with  Leger  that  earth  and  sky  were 
steeped  in  a  profound  serenity.  He  was  sensible  only  of  the 
jar  of  the  pick  below. 

In  the  meanwhile  Ingleby,  stripped  to  the  waist,  toiled 
feverishly  by  the  light  of  a  few  blazing  resin-knots  in  the 
narrow  pit.  His  hands  were  bleeding,  and  the  dew  of  effort 
dripped  from  him  while  he  swung  with  the  clinking  pick 
like  an  automaton.  He  was  grimed  with  mire,  his  long  boots 
were  sodden,  and  the  drip  from  the  shaft  side  splashed 
upon  his  naked  shoulders,  while  his  face  was  grim  and  grey 
with  the  weariness  he  did  not  feel.  At  last  there  was  a 
sharp  ringing  as  the  pick  went  down,  and  while  his  raw 
hands  tingled  he  flung  the  implement  aside. 


INGLEBY  STRIKES  IT  RICH  149 

"Bed  rock  or  a  boulder!"  he  said  hoarsely.  "Send  the 
bucket  down." 

It  was  a  bald  announcement,  but  that  was  not  a  time  for 
speech,  and  Leger  fully  realized  the  significance  of  it.  The 
crazy  windlass  rattled,  and  the  rude  receptacle  of  deer-hide 
stretched  on  a  willow-hoop  came  down.  Ingleby  filled  it 
with  the  shovel,  and  then  pressed  down  a  further  load  of 
sand  and  soil  and  pebbles  with  quivering  hands. 

"Heave !"  he  said  sharply. 

The  bucket  went  up,  and  it  was  with  a  little  grim  smile 
Ingleby  struggled  into  his  rent  shirt,  though  the  operation 
cost  him  at  least  a  minute.  There  was,  he  knew,  a  neces- 
sity for  keeping  his  head  now,  and,  holding  himself  in  hand 
by  an  effort,  he  crawled  slowly  up  the  notched  fir-pole 
lowered  into  the  little  shaft.  Then  he  and  Leger,  saying 
nothing,  proceeded  to  the  creek  with  the  heavy  bucket  and 
a  big  indurated  basin.  Ingleby  went  in  knee-deep,  with  the 
firelight  flickering  on  him,  and  with  a  twirl  of  his  hands 
washed  out  half  the  lighter  contents  of  the  basin.  Then 
he  glanced  at  Leger. 

"Shall  we  try  it  now?"  he  said. 

"No,"  said  Leger,  a  trifle  hoarsely.    "Put  in  the  rest." 

Ingleby  emptied  into  a  little  heap  what  was  left  in  the 
basin,  after  which  he  filled  it  again,  and  repeated  the  pro- 
cess several  times  while  Leger  stood  still  upon  the  bank 
watching  him.  Neither  said  anything,  though  there  was 
a  strained  expectancy  in  their  faces  that  showed  the  im- 
portance of  the  result.  At  last  there  was  nothing  left  in 
the  bucket,  and  Leger's  hands  shook  as  he  scooped  up  the 
little  heap  upon  the  bank  and  flung  it  into  the  basin. 

"Get  it  done!"  he  said. 

Ingleby  stepped  back  into  the  stream,  and  was  busy  some 
little  time  tilting  and  twirling  the  basin,  and  now  and  then 
stirring  its  contents  with  his  hand.  Then  he  very  carefully 
let  the  water  run  away,  and  waded  with  a  curious  slowness 
to  the  bank.    He  stood  there  for  a  tense  moment  while  he 


150  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

and  Leger  looked  at  each  other,  until  the  latter,  turning, 
stirred  the  crackling  fire. 

"Pour  it  out!"  he  said  hoarsely.  "I  can't  stand  much 
more  of  this." 

Ingleby  shook  out  the  contents  of  the  basin  on  a  little 
strip  of  hide,  and  for  a  moment  or  two  could  scarcely  dis- 
cern anything,  for  his  heart  throbbed  painfully  and  his 
sight  was  a  trifle  dim.  Then  he  made  out  that  there  were 
little  yellow  grains  scattered  about  the  hide,  and  when  he 
stirred  the  fragments  of  stone  and  pebbles  with  his  fingers 
larger  particles  of  the  same  hue  became  visible.  He 
straightened  himself  slowly  with  a  little  gasp,  and  the 
blood  surged  to  his  face. 

"I  almost  think — we've  struck  it  rich !"  he  said. 

Leger  said  nothing  whatever,  for  there  are  times  when  it 
is  difficult  to  express  one's  feelings  articulately,  and  he 
stood  quite  still  in  the  firelight  blinking  at  Ingleby.  Then 
he  sat  down,  and  scraping  the  precious  grains  into  a  little 
bag  poised  it  in  his  hand. 

"There  will  be  no  need  for  any  more  baking — at  this 
rate.    We'll  go  home  and  tell  Hetty,"  he  said. 

"She's  asleep,"  said  Ingleby,  whose  voice  shook  a  little. 

"Perhaps  she  is,"  said  Leger,  with  a  curious  smile.  "I 
fancy  I  shall  rest  to-night."* 

They  climbed  the  hillside  together,  Ingleby  carrying  the 
little  bag ;  but  he  scarcely  saw  the  glow  of  the  fire  that  still 
burned  outside  the  shanty  or  the  clustering  pines.  His 
heart  no  longer  throbbed  as  it  had  done,  and  while  a  curious 
lassitude  came  upon  him,  alluring  visions  floated  before 
him.  Then  as  they  stopped  in  front  of  the  shanty  a 
shadowy  figure  slipped  out  of  it,  and,  for  the  firelight  fell 
upon  them,  Hetty  felt  her  fingers  quiver  as  she  glanced  at 
Ingleby's  face. 

"Oh!"  she  said  with  a  little  gasp,  "you  have  found  the 
gold !" 

Ingleby  gravely  held  out  the  bag.    "That  is  the  first  of 


INGLEBY  STRIKES  IT  RICH  151 

it — and  it's  yours,"  he  said.  "If  it  hadn't  been  for  yon 
we  should  never  have  held  the  mine.  One  third  of  it 
all  belongs  to  you." 

Hetty  took  the  gold  with  a  little  smile. 

"I  am  very  glad  you  found  it — and  remembered  me," 
she  said. 

Then  she  turned  away  somewhat  abruptly,  and  went 
back  into  the  shanty. 

"Hetty  scarcely  seems  as  delighted  as  one  would  have  ex- 
pected," said  Ingleby. 

Leger,  whose  face  had  grown  a  trifle  grave,  laughed  in 
a  fashion  which  suggested  that  it  cost  him  an  effort.  "One 
so  seldom  gets  a  windfall  of  this  kind  that  it's  a  trifle  diffi- 
cult to  know  how  to  express  one's  satisfaction.  The  only 
thing  that  occurs  to  me  is  to  smash  all  the  cooking  utensils, 
but,  considering  the  distance  from  the  settlement,  that 
would  scarcely  be  convenient." 

Ingleby,  who  flung  himself  down  beside  the  fire,  made 
no  answer,  but  vacantly  drank  the  coffee  and  ate  the  food 
that  Hetty  brought  him.  He  was,  in  fact,  almost  oblivious 
of  his  surroundings,  for  again  his  fancy  was  busy  with  al- 
luring visions,  and  now  that  the  tension  was  over  his  per- 
ceptions were  dulled  by  the  weariness  of  his  worn-out  body. 
At  last,  however,  he  became  sensible  that  Leger  was  no 
longer  there  and  that  Hetty  was  sitting  alone  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  sinking  fire. 

"Where's  Tom?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  he's  asleep,"  said  Hetty.  "It's  no  wonder. 
Aren't  you  very  tired,  Walter?" 

Ingleby  laughed  drowsily  and  stretched  his  aching  limbs. 
"I  really  believe  I  am,  though  I  scarcely  felt  it  until  this 
moment.    What  are  you  sitting  up  for,  Hetty?" 

"I  don't  quite  know.  Still,  one  doesn't  come  into  a 
fortune  every  day.    I  suppose  it  is  a  fortune,  Walter?" 

Ingleby's  face  grew  a  trifle  grave.     "It  at  least  looks 


152  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

like  it,  but  nobody  could  tell  just  now.  A  placer  mine  often 
works  out  unexpectedly." 

"Still,  if  it  doesn't,  what  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Why  don't  you  say — we?" 

Hetty  smiled  curiously,  and  shook  her  head.  "You 
will  not  want  Tom  and  me  now." 

"If  you  fancy  I  would  ever  be  willing  to  lose  sight  of 
either  of  you  you  are  doing  me  a  wrong.  Haven't  I  been 
living  on  your  bounty — on  what  you  made  by  baking  with 
your  own  little  hands  ?  Would  we  have  found  the  gold  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  you?" 

Hetty  flushed  a  little,  but  she  persisted. 

"I'm  not  sure  the  new  friends  you  will  make  would  ap- 
prove of  us,"  she  said. 

"Then,"  said  Ingleby  decisively,  "they  will  not  be  friends 
of  mine.  You  don't  seem  to  understand  that  you  have  a 
third  share  in  the  mine,  and  Tom  holds  another.  The 
result  of  that  will  be  that  you  will  be  able  to  live  as  you 
like  and  dress  as  prettily  as  anybody.  Still,  don't  you 
think  that  old  print  gown — I  suppose  it  is  print — you  put 
on  to  bake  in  is  worth  all  a  court-lady's  finery?" 

Hetty  once  more  shook  her  head.  "I  should  still  be 
Hetty  Leger — who  waited  at  a  boarding-house,  and  sold 
bread  to  the  miners,"  she  said.  "If  I  pretended  to  be  any 
one  else  people  would  only  find  me  out  and  laugh,  as  well 
as  look  down  on  me.  Nothing  that  I  could  put  on  or  any 
one  could  teach  me  would  make  me  quite  the  same  as — 
Miss  Coulthurst — you  see." 

Ingleby,  who  had  not  expected  this,  was  not  exactly 
pleased.  He  was  very  grateful  to  Hetty,  and  thought, 
which  was  how  he  expressed  it,  a  good  deal  of  her;  but 
since  she  had  raised  the  point,  there  was  certainly  a  differ- 
ence between  her  and  Grace  Coulthurst.  It  did  not  occur 
to  him  that  the  difference  might,  after  all,  be  in  Hetty's 
favour,  and  that  there  were  qualities  she  possessed  which 
are  worth  more  than  many  accomplishments  and  a  repose- 


INGLEBY  STRIKES  IT  RICH  153 

ful  manner.  In  the  meanwhile  Hetty  appeared  to  expect 
an  answer,  and  he  felt  that  she  had  placed  him  in  a 
difficulty. 

"What  you  have  suggested  applies  as  much  to  me,"  he 
said. 

Hetty  laughed.  "I  was  wondering  what  you  would  say 
— and  I  suppose  it  does.  Still,  nobody  seems  to  mind  the 
little  difference  so  much  in  a  man  when  he  has  plenty 
of  money.  You  are  going  to  marry  Miss  Coulthurst  if  you 
get  rich,  Walter?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ingleby  gravely,  "if  she  will  have  me, 
which  I  am  afraid  is  far  from  certain;  but  I  must  make 
myself  more  than  a  placer  miner  first.  That  is  why,  if 
Tom  is  willing,  I  shall  probably  start  a  contractor's  busi- 
ness and  build  roads  and  bridges.  They  are  always  wanted 
in  this  Province,  and  I  fancy  making  them  wouldn't  be  so 
very  difficult.  Tom  would  stay  in  the  office — he  has  the 
brains,  you  see — and  I  like  the  outside  life  in  the  bush.  It 
is  a  useful  profession  that  everybody  looks  up  to  here,  and 
we  could,  of  course,  bring  out  a  young  English  engineer." 

He  had  sunk  back  a  little  upon  the  pile  of  branches 
where  he  lay,  and  Hetty  noticed  that  his  eyes  were  heavy ; 
but  he  roused  himself  with  an  effort. 

"We  will  go  back  to  Vancouver  when  the  mine  works 
out.  You  shall  choose  the  house — one  of  the  pretty  ones 
outside  the  town  with  the  wooden  pillars  and  painted 
scrollwork.  We  will  get  a  China  boy  to  cook  for  you — and 
you  shall  have  a  pair  of  ponies  to  drive  in  Stanley  Park. 
Tom  will  keep  the  books  and  get  the  orders  while  I  do  the 
work.  Roads  and  bridges,  flumes  and  dams,  are  always 
wanted — and  I  must  be  more  than  a  placer  miner." 

Then  his  head  sank  forward,  and  Hetty,  who  sat  still 
for  a  minute,  rose  with  a  little  wistful  smile,  and  looked 
down  at  him.  He  lay  with  eyes  quite  closed  now,  and  one 
arm  stretched  out,  for  the  needs  of  the  worn-out  body  had 
at  last  proved  stronger  than  his  will.    His  jacket  had  fallen. 


154  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

open  to  the  waist,  and  Hetty  noticed  how  thin  he  was 
and  the  hollowness  of  his  quiet  face.  Then  she  slipped 
softly  into  the  tent  where  Leger  lay  asleep,  and  coming 
out  with  a  coarse  brown  blanket,  spread  it  over  Ingleby, 
though  as  she  did  it  the  flickering  light  showed  a  rich 
damask  in  her  cheek.  Then  laying  fresh  wood  on  the  fire 
she  stole  away  and  left  him  to  sleep.  The  great  branches 
that  met  above  him  kept  off  the  dew,  and  one  could  sleep 
as  well  there  as  in  the  tent. 

The  sun  had  cleared  the  redwoods  when  he  opened  his 
eyes  again  and  saw  Leger  smiling  down  at  him. 

"It's  a  very  long  while  since  I  got  up  so  late,  and  I  don't 
quite  know  how  I  came  to  be  lying  here,"  he  said.  "I 
suppose  I  fell  asleep  beside  the  fire,  but  in  that  case  it's 
a  little  difficult  to  understand  how  I  could  have  got  the 
blanket  and  tucked  myself  in." 

Then  he  stood  up  and  stretched  himself,  while  Leger 
glanced  at  him  curiously. 

"I  don't  think  it  matters  very  much.  You  looked  half- 
dazed  when  I  left  you,  and  scarcely  likely  to  remember 
what  you  did,"  he  said.  "Breakfast  is  almost  ready,  and 
we  have  a  good  deal  on  hand  to-day." 

Within  the  next  half-hour  they  were  at  work  again,  and 
by  afternoon  had  satisfied  themselves  of  the  richness  of 
the  claim.  They  also,  in  accordance  with  established  cus- 
tom, put  up  a  little  flag  to  show  all  whom  it  might  concern 
that  they  had  bottomed  on  gold.  As  it  happened,  nobody 
but  a  police  trooper,  who  asked  them  a  few  questions,  saw 
it,  for  the  pines  were  thick  and  most  of  the  placer  workings 
situated  farther  up  the  valley.  The  trooper  mentioned 
the  matter  to  Esmond,  and  the  latter  forthwith  called 
upon  Major  Coulthurst.     His  opportunity  had  come. 

"I  wonder  if  you  know  that  your  friend  Ingleby  has 
struck  gold?"  he  said. 

"I  didn't,"  said  Coulthurst,  who  did  not  appear  to  notice 
his  sardonic  tone.    "I'm  pleased  to  hear  it." 


INGLEBY  STRIKES  IT  RICH  155 

Esmond's  smile  might  have  meant  anything.  "It 
would,"  he  said,  "have  been  wiser  if  Ingleby  had  stayed 
on  his  claim.  You  remember  that  he  left  it  for  a  con- 
siderable time." 

"I  do,"  said  Coulthurst,  who  glanced  at  him  inquiringly, 
with  a  trace  of  dryness.  "In  different  circumstances  it 
might  have  cost  him  his  title." 

Esmond  sat  silent  for  a  moment  or  two. 

"So  far  as  I  understand  the  enactments,  one  only  holds 
a  placer  claim  on  the  condition  that  the  work  goes  on  con- 
tinuously," he  said. 

"In  the  case  you  are  referring  to  I  believe  it  did.  In- 
gleby left  his  partner  in  possession." 

Esmond  smiled.  "It  is,  one  understands,  essential  that 
everybody  holding  a  mineral  claim  of  any  kind  should 
have  a  free  miner's  certificate." 

"Of  course!  Ingleby  and  Leger  each  took  one  out.  I 
remember  it  very  well." 

"All  certificates,"  said  Esmond,  "expire  on  the  thirty- 
first  of  May." 

"Ingleby  renewed  his,"  said  Coulthurst,  and  stopped 
abruptly. 

"Ingleby,  as  you  remember,  invalidated  his  title." 

Coulthurst  rose  sharply  and  took  down  his  register. 
He  flicked  over  several  pages  and  closed  it  with  a  little 
hang.  Then  as  he  turned  to  Esmond  his  face  grew  a  trifle 
grim. 

"Fm  not  quite  sure  how  far  my  authority  goes  until 
I  look  it  up,"  he  said.    "I  have  rather  a  liking  for  Ingleby." 

Esmond  smiled  in  a  deprecatory  fashion.  "It  is  not 
exactly  my  business,  but  one  would  fancy  that  you  couldn't 
very  well  discriminate,  sir.  Anything  of  the  kind  would 
have  an  undesirable  effect  upon  the  other  men." 

"That  is  my  affair,"  and  Coulthurst  glanced  at  him 
sharply.  "It  is  a  little  difficult  to  understand  why  you 
raised  the  question  only  when  they  had  found  the  gold." 


156  DELILAH  OF  THE   SNOWS 

"I  fancy  that  it  is  very  natural,  sir.  It  is  no  part  of 
my  duty  to  see  the  mining  regulations  are  carried  out, 
and  it  was  not  until  I  heard  they  had  struck  the  lead 
that  I  remembered  the  little  fact  I  noticed  in  looking  over 
your  register.  It  seemed  advisable  to  let  you  know.  The 
men  seem  inclined  to  find  fault  with  everything  just  now, 
and  if  it  came  out  that  Ingleby's  claim  had  not  been  se- 
questrated when  it  should  have  been  they  might  get  it  into 
their  heads  that  you  had  winked  at  the  irregularity  because 
you  were  on  good  terms  with  him.  That  would  naturally 
increase  my  difficulties  with  them." 

Coulthurst  stood  looking  at  him  with  a  hardening  face. 
"I  am,"  he  said,  "very  sorry  that  this  has  happened,  but 
it  will  be  gone  into.  May  I  trouble  you  to  send  one  of 
your  troopers  over  for  Ingleby  and  Leger?" 


XVI 

AN  INVALID  RECORD 

CUPPER  had  just  been  finished,  and  Ingleby  was  lying, 
pipe  in  hand,  beside  the  creek  waiting  until  Leger 
should  bring  another  load  of  wash-dirt  from  the  mine. 
The  sunlight  was  still  pleasantly  warm,  the  air  filled 
with  the  balsamic  odours  of  the  pines,  and  there  was  a 
little  smile  of  unalloyed  content  in  Ingleby's  face  as  he 
drank  them  in.  Though  he  had  toiled  since  morning, 
those  few  minutes  would  be  the  only  rest  he  would  enjoy 
until  long  after  darkness  closed  in,  and  once  more  he 
indulged  in  visions  of  a  roseate  future  as  he  made  the  most 
of  them. 

They  had  washed  up  each  bucket-load  as  they  brought 
it  to  the  surface,  and  the  result  had  made  the  richness  of 
the  mine  increasingly  plain.  Ingleby  was  getting  accus- 
tomed to  the  fact  that  he  was  now,  in  all  probability,  at 
least,  comparatively  rich,  and  already  his  brain  was  oc- 
cupied with  half-formed  projects.  They  did  not  include 
a  further  course  of  prospecting,  for  he  had  discovered 
that  placer  mines  are  addicted  to  playing  out  with  dis- 
concerting rapidity,  and  that  in  case  of  the  deep  lodes  it 
is  not  as  a  rule  the  man  who  records  the  claim,  but  the 
capitalist  or  company-jobber,  who  takes  the  profit. 

He  would  go  back  to  civilization  and  embark  on  an 
industrial  career,  for  there  was,  he  fancied  not  altogether 
incorrectly,  wealth  awaiting  the  resolute  and  enterprising 
man  with  sufficient  money  who  was  willing  to  play  his  part 

157 


158  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

in  laying  the  foundations  of  the  future  prosperity  of  that 
rich  land,  and  he  had  a  young  man's  faith  in  his  abilities 
which  was  in  his  case  more  or  less  warranted.  Then  when 
he  had  won  a  footing  he  would  boldly  ask  Major  Coulthurst 
for  his  daughter's  hand.  Social  distinctions  count  for 
little  in  Western  Canada,  and,  though  the  waiting  would 
be  hard,  there  was  consolation  in  the  thought  that  every 
bold  venture  would  bring  him  so  much  nearer  her.  In- 
gleby  was  proud,  and  content  to  possess  his  soul  in  patience 
until  he  had  shown  that  he  could  hold  his  own  with  his  fel- 
lows and  hew  his  own  way  to  fortune. 

It  was,  at  least,  a  wholesome  resolution,  and  there  was 
behind  it  a  vague  participation  in  the  belief  held  by 
primitive  peoples  and  proclaimed  in  courts  in  the  days  of 
chivalry,  that  man  before  he  mated  should  be  required  to 
make  his  manhood  plain  by  deeds  accomplished  and  pain 
endured.  It  was  not  fitting,  he  felt,  that  the  woman  should 
give  everything  or  stoop  too  far.  He  must  have  something 
to  offer,  as  well  as  the  ability  to  lift  himself  to  her  level ; 
and  through  all  there  ran  the  desire  of  the  democratic 
Englishman  for  an  opportunity  to  prove  himself  at  least 
the  equal  of  those  accounted  his  betters. 

Before  Leger  reached  him  with  the  bucket  there  was 
a  rustling  in  the  tall  fern  behind  him,  and  Tomlinson 
came  out  upon  the  bank  of  the  creek.  He  glanced  at  the 
little  flag  above  the  mine  and  the  pile  of  debris  at  the 
water's  edge,  and  then  took  up  the  pan  Ingleby  had  laid 
down  and  dipped  it  in  the  stream.  A  whirl  of  it  in  his 
practised  hand  was  enough  for  him. 

"Yes,"  he  said  quietly,  "I  guess  you've  struck  it  rich!" 

Ingleby  laughed  and  handed  him  a  little  bag. 

"I  almost  think  we  have.    Feel  that !"  he  said. 

Tomlinson  poised  the  bag  in  one  hand,  and  then  sat 
down  with  a  little  gesture  of  assent,  for  he  was  not  by 
any  means  a  demonstrative  man. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "it  will  make  it  easier  for  Hetty,  and 


AN  INVALID  RECORD  159 

I'm  glad  of  it.  Slaving  away  at  that  bakery  isn't  the  kind 
of  thing  for  her.  If  s  going  to  the  opera  at  Vancouver  with 
the  best  of  them  she  ought  to  be  doing.  I  guess  that 
would  suit  most  young  women  quite  as  well  as  baking 
bread;  but  it's  a  little  rough  on  me  that  Hetty  Leger 
would  sooner  stay  right  where  she  is." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Ingleby. 

"Tom  knows,"  said  Tomlinson,  ruefully.  "I  haven't  put 
it  quite  straight  to  Hetty.  Just  now,  anyway,  it  wouldn't 
be  any  good.  She's  quite  happy  holding  on  to  that  blame 
bakery,  though  what  she  wants  to  do  it  for  is  more  than 
I  can  figure.  It  can't  be  the  money,  because  I've  a  claim 
back  yonder  that's  turning  out  a  pile  of  it  every  day,  and 
she  could  have  all  she'd  any  use  for." 

Ingleby  found  himself  in  a  position  of  some  perplexity. 
He  could  not  well  admit  that  there  was  any  reason  why  an 
honest  man  of  excellent  character,  such  as  Tomlinson 
appeared  to  be,  should  not  marry  Hetty,  and  yet  the  mere 
probability  of  this  was  distasteful  to  him.  It  was,  in  fact, 
unpleasant  to  contemplate  the  possibility  of  Hetty's  marry- 
ing anybody.  He  remembered  that  she  had  by  no  means 
displayed  the  satisfaction  one  would  have  expected  when 
they  found  the  gold,  and  from  this  it  appeared  that  Tom- 
linson's  suggestion  that  she  was  quite  content  to  continue 
the  bakery  was  warranted.  It  was,  however,  difficult  to 
discover  any  reason  for  this,  and  he  was  still  considering 
the  question  when  Leger  came  up.  Tomlinson  turned  to 
him. 

"You  kept  the  thing  kind  of  quiet.  Told  nobody  yet?" 
he  said. 

"  Only  one  of  the  policemen.  We  were  too  busy  to  spend 
a  good  deal  of  the  day  coming  over  to  let  the  boys  know, 
though  Ingleby  was  thinking  of  going  across  to-night. 
You  have  a  good  claim  already,  and  you  can't  hold  more 
than  one,  you  know." 

Tomlinson  nodded.    "That's  quite  right,"  he  said.    "It's 

\ 


160  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

kind  of  unfortunate  Sewell  isn't  here.  You  don't  know 
where  he  is?" 

"No,"  said  Ingleby.  "He  has  been  away  for  two  days 
looking  for  a  deer.  I  suppose  anybody  pegging  off  a  claim 
next  to  ours  would  strike  gold?" 

"It's  quite  likely.  He'd  get  the  colour,  sure,  but  when 
the  creek  that  washed  the  metal  out  was  running  it  dropped 
the  heavy  stuff  only  here  and  there.  Anyway,  the  chances 
would  be  good  enough,  I  figure.  What  policeman  was  it 
you  told?" 

"Probyn." 

Tomlinson's  face  hardened  suddenly.  "Oh,  yes!"  he 
said.    "He's  quite  often  hanging  around  here." 

It  occurred  to  Ingleby  now  that  the  trooper  in  question 
had  certainly  found  occasion  to  visit  their  mine  or  the 
bakery  somewhat  frequently,  but  just  then  the  lad  in 
question  appeared  and  came  up  to  them.  He  disregarded 
Tomlinson,  who  showed  no  sign  of  recognizing  him,  and 
looked  at  Ingleby. 

"Major  Coulthurst  would  be  glad  if  you  and  Leger  could 
find  it  convenient  to  see  him  now,"  he  said. 

"What  does  he  want?"  asked  Leger  sharply. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  trooper.  "I'm  telling  you 
what  he  said." 

There  was  a  curious  silence  for  a  moment  or  two,  and 
Ingleby  felt  a  little  thrill  of  apprehension  run  through 
him.    Then  Tomlinson  rose  with  sudden  abruptness. 

"I  guess  you've  got  to  go.    I'm  coming  along,"  he  said. 

"The  Recorder  did  not  mention  you.  If  he'd  been 
anxious  for  your  company  he  probably  would  have  done 
so,"  said  the  trooper  drily. 

Tomlinson  looked  at  him  with  a  little  glint  in  his  eyes, 
and  then  laid  his  hand  on  Ingleby's  shoulder. 

"I've  played  this  game  quite  a  long  while,  and  I  guess 
I  know  the  pointers  'most  as  well  as  anybody,"  he  said. 

Ingleby  said  nothing,  but  his  face  became  suddenly  in- 


AN  INVALID  RECORD  161 

tent,  and,  though  the  pace  they  made  was  fast,  he  grew 
feverishly  impatient  as  they  swung  along  the  trail  to  the 
Gold  Commissioner's  office.  Coulthurst  was  awaiting  them 
when  they  reached  it>and  glanced  at  Tomlinson  inquiringly. 

"You  have  some  business  with  me?"  he  said. 

Tomlinson  sat  down  uninvited,  with  a  smile.  "Well," 
he  said,  "the  fact  is,  I  don't  quite  know  yet.  When  you've 
trouble  with  the  Crown  folks  in  the  cities  you  can  take  a 
lawyer  along.    At  this  game  I'm  'most  as  good  as  one." 

Coulthurst  made  his  indifference  apparent  by  a  gesture. 
"I  don't  suppose  it  matters.  Will  you  sit  down,  Mr. 
Leger?    There's  a  seat  yonder,  Ingleby." 

Ingleby  sat  down,  and,  with  a  sinking  heart,  watched  him 
open  a  book.  There  was  a  difference  in  Coulthurst's  man- 
ner. He  was  precise  and  formal  and  did  not  appear  quite 
comfortable.  One  could  almost  have  fancied  that  what 
he  was  about  to  do  was  distasteful  to  him. 

"You  left  your  claim  on  or  about  the  twentieth  of  June, 
Ingleby,"  he  said.     "You  did  not  return  until " 

"Hold  on !"  said  Tomlinson.  "You've  got  to  prove  that. 
I  guess  there's  no  reason  why  you  should  admit  anything, 
Walter." 

Just  then  there  were  footsteps  outside,  and  Ingleby 
looked  up  sharply  as  Esmond  came  in.  He  appeared  a 
trifle  disconcerted  when  he  saw  what  was  going  on,  and 
turned  towards  the  door  again. 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  busy,  sir,"  he  said. 

"Sit  down,"  and  the  major's  tone  was  very  dry.  "I 
should  prefer  you  to  hear  this  affair  with  me.  You  re- 
member on  what  day  Mr.  Ingleby  left  his  claim?" 

Tomlinson  nodded.  "That's  the  straight  thing,  Major," 
he  said.  "Keep  him  right  there.  I  guess  the  insect's  at 
the  botttom  of  everything." 

,  "We  can  dispense  with  your  advice,"  said  Coulthurst, 
chillingly,  though  there  was  a  suggestion  of  a  twinkle  in 
his  eyes. 


162  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

In  the  meanwhile  Ingleby  looked  at  Esmond,  and  his 
face  was  a  trifle  pale,  though  a  faint  tinge  of  darker  hue 
showed  in  the  young  officer's  cheek.  He  was  apparently 
not  altogether  free  from  embarrassment.  It  was  Ingleby 
who  spoke. 

"I  have  no  doubt  Captain  Esmond  remembers  exactly 
when  I  left  the  claim,  sir,  and  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained 
by  disputing  over  a  day  or  two,"  he  said.  "I  was  away 
a  good  deal  longer  than  the  seventy-two  hours  the  law 
permits." 

"Which  invalidates  your  title!"  said  the  major.  "You 
failed  to  notify  me  or  claim  the  privilege  which  under 
certain  conditions  I  might  have  accorded  you." 

Ingleby,  who  had  been  anxious  hitherto,  but  by  no  means 
dismayed,  gasped. 

"If  I  understand  the  regulations,  it  would  be  quite  suffi- 
cient to  leave  another  miner  to  carry  on  the  work  on  my 
account.  Besides,  under  the  mineral-claim  enactments 
which  I  think  apply,  the  title  would,  in  any  case,  revert  to 
my  partner." 

Esmond,  who  appeared  to  have  recovered  his  tranquillity, 
smiled  a  little,  and  there  was  a  curious  silence  in  the  room 
as  Coulthurst  took  down  a  book.  Ingleby  could  feel  his 
heart  throbbing  as  he  listened  to  the  sharp  rustle  of  the 
leaves  while  the  major  looked  for  the  clause  he  wanted. 

"You  hold  a  free  miner's  certificate,  Leger?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Leger,  and  then  started  visibly,  while 
Ingleby,  who  saw  his  face,  closed  one  hand  a  trifle  as  he 
leaned  forward  in  his  chair. 

"You  can  produce  it?"  said  the  major. 

Leger  dejectedly  passed  the  paper  across  to  him,  but 
Ingleby,  who  found  the  suspense  becoming  unendurable, 
turned  to  him. 

"Tom,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "you  didn't  neglect  to  renew 
it?" 


AN  INVALID  RECORD  163 

Leger  did  not  seem  to  remember  that  anybody  else  was 
there.    He  smiled  wryly  and  made  a  little  gesture. 

"I'm  afraid  I  did,"  he  said.  "I  hadn't  the  money 
when  the  time  came  round.  I  didn't  want  you  to  know 
that — and  I  couldn't  ask  Hetty.  "We  scarcely  expected  to 
find  anything,  you  see.  Afterwards,  I  suppose  it  slipped 
my  memory." 

Ingleby  said  nothing,  though  his  face  was  very  grim, 
and  the  little  thud  of  Coulthurst's  hand  upon  the  book 
broke  sharply  through  the  silence. 

"Should  a  free  miner  neglect  to  renew  his  certificate 
upon  expiry  all  mineral-claims  held  by  him  under  it  revert 
to  the  Crown,"  he  said. 

Then  he  stood  up,  straight  and  burly,  though  his  face 
was  a  trifle  flushed. 

"I'm  sorry,  Ingleby,  but  I'm  afraid  you  have  thrown 
away  your  claim." 

Ingleby  sat  very  still  for  part  of  a  minute  with  one  hand 
closed  tightly.    Then  he  also  rose. 

"I  can't  blame  you,  sir,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "I  don't 
think  there  is  anything  to  be  gained  by  protesting." 

"Well,"  said  Tomlinson,  "you're  'way  more  patient  than 
I  would  be.  Why  did  they  let  you  go  on  working  until  you 
had  found  the  gold?" 

Ingleby  turned  and  looked  at  the  police  officer  with  a 
very  unpleasant  glint  in  his  eyes.  "That,"  he  said,  "is 
a  little  kindness  for  which,  I  fancy,  I  am  indebted  to  Cap- 
tain Esmond." 

He  would  have  gone  out,  but  Tomlinson  laid  a  hand  upon 
his  arm  and  turned  to  the  Recorder. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "I'm  going  to  do  some  talking.  That 
claim's  Ingleby's,  Major,  until  you've  declared  it  open,  and 
wiped  out  his  record." 

"Well,"  said  Coulthurst  drily,  "I  am  sorry  to  find  my- 
self compelled  to  do  it.  The  claim  lately  held  by  Walter 
Ingleby  and  Thomas  Leger,  having  reverted  to  the  Crown, 


164  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

is  open  for  relocation.  A  notice  will  be  issued  to  that 
effect.  I  may,  however,  point  out — to  you — that  no  free 
miner  can  hold  more  than  one  claim  in  the  same  vicinity.'' 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Tomlinson.  "The  one  I've  got 
is  quite  enough  for  me.  You  have  a  certificate,  Ingleby. 
Take  out  a  new  one,  Leger." 

Leger  drew  the  little  bag  from  his  pocket,  but  Tom- 
linson waved  it  aside,  and  threw  another  down  before 
Coulthurst,  glancing  at  Esmond  as  he  did  so. 

"That  gold  came  out  of  the  reverted  mine,  and  they 
might  claim  it  wasn't  yours.  We'll  make  sure,"  he  said. 
"There's  a  man  worth  keeping  your  eye  on  who  has  a  hand 
in  this  deal.  More  than  the  necessary  amount  there,  sir? 
Let  him  have  his  certificate.  I'll  look  in  for  the  rest  any 
time  that  suits  you." 

Coulthurst's  eyes  twinkled  a  little  as  comprehension 
dawned  on  him,  and  he  passed  Leger  the  paper. 

"I  fancy  any  advice  that  prospector  Tomlinson  desires 
to  give  you  would  be  worth  considering,"  he  said. 

Tomlinson  wasted  no  further  time,  but  drove  Ingleby 
and  Leger  before  him  out  of  the  room. 

"It's  rustle  now!"  he  said.  "There's  nothing  to  stop 
either  of  you  pegging  a  new  claim  down  on  the  lead  along- 
side the  old  one.  It's  even  chances  you  strike  it  quite  as 
rich  there.    Get  your  stakes  in !" 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Leger. 

Tomlinson  laughed.  "To  put  the  boys  on  the  lead. 
Still,  it's  quite  likely  that  a  friend  of  mine  will  relocate 
your  old  claim  a  little  ahead  of  them.  He'll  be  there  'most 
as  soon  as  the  major  puts  up  his  notice  that  it's  open.  He 
may  think  it  worth  while  to  let  me  in  somehow  for  telling 
him." 

He  set  off  at  a  run,  and  as  he  disappeared  Ingleby  and 
Leger,  leaving  the  winding  trail,  went  straight  through  the 
undergrowth  towards  the  canon.  Vigorous  movement  with 
a  definite  purpose  was  a  relief  to  them,  and  they  were 


AN  INVALID  RECORD  165 

gasping  and  dripping  with  perspiration  when  at  last  they 
stopped  beside  the  sequestrated  claim.  Nobody  else  had 
reached  it,  and  the  bush  was  very  still,  but  it  was  in  feverish 
haste  they  hewed  and  drove  in  certain  square-faced  stakes. 
They  were  still  on  the  lead,  and  once  more  a  little  hope 
sprang  up  in  them. 

In  the  meanwhile  Coulthurst  sat  at  his  table  looking  hard 
at  Esmond. 

"I  hope,"  he  said  grimly,  "that  you  are  now  satisfied." 
Esmond  met  his  gaze  without  embarrassment.     "I'm 
not  sure  I  quite  catch  your  meaning,  sir." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Coulthurst,  "it  is  a  trifle  difficult 
to  understand  how  you  came  to  hold  a  commission  in  a 
service  in  which  one  understands  intelligence  is  necessary. 
I  have  carried  out  the  law,  but  I  don't  mind  admitting  that 
I  do  not  appreciate  being  made  use  of  in  this  fashion.  It 
is  very  evident  you  do  not  like  Ingleby." 

Esmond,  who  made  no  disclaimer,  appeared  to  reflect  for 
a  moment  or  two. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you  have,  perhaps,  some  ground  for 
feeling  aggrieved,  sir ;  but  I  can't  help  thinking  that  I  have 
done  nothing  that  was  unnecessary." 

"I  am  not  blaming  you  for — doing  your  duty." 
"I  scarcely  think  you  would  be  warranted  in  consider- 
ing me  very  much  at  fault  for  going  a  little  beyond  it. 
I  admit  that  it  would  please  me  to  see  Ingleby  driven  out 
of  the  valley.  The  fellow's  presumption  is  almost  insuffer- 
able." 

Coulthurst  glanced  at  him  sharply,  and  his  face  grew  a 
trifle  red.  "Ingleby  is  very  young  in  comparison  with  my- 
self, but  you  were  once  good  enough  to  allude  to  him  as  a 
friend  of  mine,  and  you  certainly  met  him  at  my  house  as 
my  guest.  If  there  was  any  particular  meaning  in  your 
speech,  it  would  be  better  to  come  straight  to  the  point. 
I  don't  like  hints." 

"I  can  only  offer  you  my  excuses  for  momentary  bad 


166  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

memory,  sir.  Absurd  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  I'm  far  from 
sure  that  Ingleby  is  likely  to  be  content  with  the  status 
mentioned.  A  very  little  reflection  should  make  the  warn- 
ing clear.  In  the  meanwhile  I  have  a  couple  of  troopers 
waiting  for  me." 

He  went  out,  and  Coulthurst  sat  still  at  his  table  gazing 
vacantly  in  front  of  him  with  his  lips  unusually  firmly  set. 
Then  he  rose  with  a  little  shake  of  his  shoulders  and  a 
gesture  of  relief. 

"The  thing  is  quite  out  of  the  question.  Grace  has  too 
much  sense,"  he  said. 


XVII 

TROOPER  PROBYN'S  MISADVENTURE 

^TOBODY  blamed  Coulthurst  for  dispossessing  Ingleby 
of  his  claim.  In  fact,  the  bluff  and  usually  good- 
humoured  major  was  more  or  less  a  favourite  with  the 
miners,  who  admitted  that  while  it  was  rough  on  Ingleby 
no  other  course  was  open  to  him.  For  all  that,  the  affair 
made  an  unfortunate  impression  when  news  leaked  out 
of  the  part  Esmond  had  played  in  it,  for  the  tetter's  arro- 
gance had  gone  a  long  way  to  gain  him  the  hearty  dislike 
of  every  man  in  the  valley. 

The  Canadian  is,  as  a  rule,  a  sturdy  imperialist  with 
democratic  tendencies,  a  type  of  citizen  which  would  else- 
where probably  be  thought  an  anachronism.  There  were, 
however,  as  Sewell  had  pointed  out,  a  good  many  men 
in  the  North  just  then  who  had  no  country,  and  a  vague 
unrest  and  discontent,  that  once  or  twice  came  near  pro- 
ducing unpleasant  results,  spread  sporadically  across  the 
wilderness  that  season.  Nobody  was  pleased  with  the  min- 
ing regulations,  and  there  were  quiet  Canadian  bushmen 
who  thought  the  drafting  of  detachments  of  the  Northwest 
Police  into  that  country  not  only  unnecessary,  but  a  re- 
flection upon  them.  There  were  also  other  men,  who  had 
carried  the  memory  of  their  wrongs  with  them  from  lands 
ruled  by  the  mailed  fist,  to  whom  this  symbol  of  imperial 
authority  was  as  a  red  rag  to  a  bull,  and  here  and  there  a 
heavy  responsibility  was  laid  on  the  agents  of  the  Crown. 

Major  Coulthurst.  however,  felt  very  little.  He  was  not 
167 


168  DELILAH   OF.   THE    SNOWS 

a  keen-sighted  man,  and  there  were  no  signs  of  discontent 
in  the  Green  River  country  so  far,  at  least,  as  he  could 
discern.  It  was  true  that  Sewell,  who  played  chess  with 
him  somewhat  frequently,  now  and  then  made  disturbing 
recommendations  which  the  major  occasionally  went  so  far 
as  to  consider;  but  the  country  was  apparently  quiet,  and 
might  have  remained  so,  in  spite  of  Esmond's  insolent 
tactlessness,  had  it  not  been  for  a  little  mistake  made  by 
Trooper  Probyn. 

He  was  a  reckless  stripling  with  a  certain  grace  of  man- 
ner which  he  could  scarcely  have  acquired  in  the  ranks  of 
the  Northwest  Police,  though  men  whose  family  name  is 
well  known  in  the  older  country  occasionally  join  that 
service  for  reasons  which  they  do  not  as  a  rule  explain. 
He  was  comely,  and  he  not  infrequently  loitered  at  the 
bakery,  even  when  he  was  supposed  to  be  elsewhere  at  his 
duty.  It  happened  that  he  stood  there  one  Saturday  after- 
noon, watching  Hetty  Leger  with  undisguised  appreciation, 
when  there  was  nobody  else  about.  He  had  perhaps  chosen 
that  particular  time  because  Leger,  who  had  shown  that  he 
did  not  approve  of  him,  was  at  the  mine;  but  there  were 
smears  of  flour  upon  his  uniform  which  suggested  what  his 
occupation  had  been. 

Hetty,  who  rather  liked  the  lad,  looked  distinctly  pretty 
just  then,  as,  with  sleeves  rolled  to  the  elbow,  she  moulded 
a  loaf  for  the  oven.  The  bush  was  very  still,  and  it  was 
pleasantly  cool  in  the  shadow  of  the  pines,  which  rolled  in 
sombre  ranks  down  the  face  of  the  hill.  It  was,  perhaps, 
unfortunate  that  Hetty  smiled  as  she  held  out  the  bread. 

"You  can  put  this  loaf  in  and  seal  up  the  oven  if  you're 
very  good,"  she  said.    *""" 

Probyn  seized  the  loaf  somewhat  clumsily,  so  that  in 
steadying  it  Hetty's  fingers  left  an  impression  on  the  plastic 
dough. 

"Now,"  said  Probyn  gravely,  "that  ought  to  make  it 
worth  another  ten  dollars  to  anybody." 


'     .TROOPER  PROBYN'S  MISADVENTURE     169 

"Would  you  think  it  worth  all  that?" 

"A  hundred,"  said  Probyn,  "would  not  be  too  much. 
I'd  buy  the  thing  now  only,  unfortunately,  I  haven't  a  coin 
of  any  kind  by  me.  There  are,  you  see,  a  good  many  dis- 
advantages attached  to  being  a  police  trooper." 

"Are  there?"  said  Hetty.  "Then  why  did  you  become 
one,  and  what  would  you  have  liked  to  be?" 

"That,"  answered  the  lad,  with  a  trace  of  dryness,  "is 
neither  here  nor  there."  Then  his  eyes  twinkled  again. 
"A  baker!  Couldn't  you  give  me  that  loaf  on  credit — to 
keep  forever?" 

"I  certainly  couldn't.  Besides,  you  would  eat  it  the  first 
time  you  were  hungry.  Hold  it  still  while  I  make  it  smooth 
again !" 

She  did  it  with  dainty  little  pats,  and  the  lad  watched 
her,  openly  appreciative,  with  his  head  on  one  side,  for  her 
pose  and  the  movements  of  arm  and  shoulder  effectively 
displayed  a  prettily  moulded  figure. 

"There's  a  little  bit  you  have  left  out.  Hadn't  you 
better  go  round  it  again  ?"  he  said. 

It  was,  perhaps,  not  altogether  wise  of  Hetty  to  laugh 
provokingly  as  she  glanced  at  him ;  but  she  was  young,  and 
masculine  approbation  was  no  more  distasteful  to  her  than 
it  is  to  most  young  women.  She  also  believed — as  she  had, 
indeed,  once  pointed  out  to  Tom  Leger — that,  though 
Trooper  Probyn  had  very  little  sense,  there  was  not  a  grain 
of  harm  in  him. 

"Why?    It's  quite  smooth  enough,"  she  said. 

"You  do  it  so  prettily.  Of  course,  that's  only  what  one 
would  expect  from  a  girl  with  a  hand  like  that.  The  wrist 
runs  into  it  so  nicely,  too.  When  some  people  try  to  work 
their  wrists  get  red,  you  know." 

"Put  the  bread  into  the  oven — now,"  said  Hetty  se- 
verely. 

The  lad,  who  noticed  a  certain  warning  tone  he  had  heard 
before,  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  luted  up  the  door  of  the 


170  DELILAH  OF   THE   SNOWS 

big  clay-built  oven.  When  he  returned  there  was  no  longer 
any  of  Hetty's  arm  visible  beneath  her  sleeve. 

"It's  getting  late,  and  I  have  the  boys'  supper  to  look 
after,"  she  said  significantly. 

Probyn  knew  by  the  lengthening  of  the  shadows  that 
this  was  true,  and  he  had  still  a  long  round  to  make;  but 
he  was  a  trifle  more  inconsequent  than  usual  that  after- 
noon, and  in  place  of  taking  his  departure  leaned  against 
a  cedar. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  mean  to  stay  a  little.  It's  very 
pleasant  here." 

The  statement  was  perfectly  warranted,  for  the  sound 
of  the  river  came  up  soothingly  across  the  pines,  and 
through  openings  between  them  one  could  see  the  tre- 
mendous ramparts  of  never-melting  snow  that  cut  cold 
and  white  against  the  blue.  Hetty,  too,  standing  with 
fluffy  hair  a  trifle  disordered,  and  with  the  sunlight  stream- 
ing between  the  great  branches  upon  her,  was  very  alluring ; 
but  still,  it  was  unfortunate  that  Trooper  Probyn  did  not 
go.  He  was  not  aware  that  Tomlinson,  who  had  had  diffi- 
culties with  the  flume  he  was  building,  was  just  then  com- 
ing up  the  hillside  in  a  somewhat  uncertain  temper. 

"You  have  been  here  quite  an  hour,"  said  Hetty. 

"A  year,"  said  Probyn,  "wouldn't  be  half  enough  for  me. 
Now,  I've  a  piece-  of  news  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  tell  you — 
and  you'll  try  to  be  brave.  Esmond  is  sending  two  or 
three  of  us  South  very  shortly,  and  I'm  very  much  afraid  I 
will  be  one  of  them." 

"Is  that  all?"  and  Hetty  laughed. 

The  lad  looked  at  her  reproachfully.  "You  seem  to 
bear  up  astonishingly  well.  It  will  be  different  with  me. 
You  may  even  have  married  one  of  those  miner  fellows  by 
the  time  I  come  back  again." 

There  was  no  apparent  reason  why  the  suggestion  should 
drive  the  smile  out  of  Hetty's  eyes;  but  it  certainly  did; 
though  Probyn  did  not  notice  her  sudden  change  of  mood. 


TROOPER  PROBYN'S  MISADVENTURE     171 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  go,  and  that's 
■why  I  want  you  to  give  me  something  to  rememher  yon  by 
when  I'm  far  away.  It.needn't  be  very  much.  That  pretty- 
little  ribbon  at  your  neck  would  do." 

The  request  was  not  out  of  keeping  with  the  trooper's 
usual  conversation,  which  consisted  largely  of  badinage,  and 
Hetty  could  not  be  expected  to  realize  that  he  now  and  then 
meunt  what  he  said.  It,  however,  happened  that  Ingleby, 
who  said  it  suited  her  complexion,  had  once  laughingly 
bought  her  that  ribbon  in  a  Vancouver  dry-goods  store. 

"You  certainly  can't  have  it,"  she  said,  a  trifle  sharply. 

Probyn,  who  perversely  fancied  her  decisiveness  was  as- 
sumed and  intended  to  be  provocative,  lost  his  head. 

"Then  you  don't  mean  to  'give  me  a  trifle  of  that  kind 
after  chopping  wood  for  you  two  days  every  week  and 
kneading  an  ovenful  of  bread?"  he  said. 

"No,"  said  Hetty,  who. was  by  no  means  anxious  to  de- 
tain him  now.  "It  wasn't  anything  like  that  often,  and 
I  told  you  I  was  busy.    Why  don't  you  go?" 

"Then  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  take  it,"  said  Probyn, 
with  a  reckless  laugh. 

In  another  moment  his  hand  was  on  Hetty's  shoulder, 
and  it  was  unfortunate  he  did  not  see  the  indignation  in 
her  face  as  she  strove  to  thrust  him  away.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  the  genuineness  of  it  now,  for  her  cheeks  were 
flushed  with  anger;  but  the  trooper's  persistence  was  not 
lessened  by  the  fact  that  a  pin  entered  one  of  his  fingers 
as  he  clutched  at  the  little  bow.  The  momentary  pain, 
indeed,  drove  what  little  sense  he  had  out  of  his  head,  and 
he  became  the  more  determined  upon  obtaining  possession 
of  the  coveted  ribbon. 

Just  then  a  big,  long-limbed  man  with  a  grim,  bronzed 
face  came  out  of  the  shadow  of  the  pines  and  stopped  for  a 
moment  with  a  smothered  expletive.  It  was  not  altogether 
unnatural  that  he  should  misunderstand  the  situation,  and 
lie  sprang  forward  suddenly  when  he  recovered  from  hig 


TO  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

astonishment.  Probyn  had  by  this  time  succeeded  in  tear- 
ing away  the  bow,  and  there  was  a  rustle  of  draperies  as 
Hetty,  who  shook  off  his  relaxing  grasp,  inconsequently 
fled;  but  in  another  moment  a  hard  hand  fell  upon  his 
shoulder  and  swung  him  round.  In  fact,  so  rude  was  the 
wrench  that  he  reeled  backwards  for  a  pace  or  two,  and  on 
recovering  his  balance  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a 
big  and  very  angry  man  who  regarded  him  out  of  half- 
closed  eyes  in  a  distinctly  unpleasant  fashion. 

"It's  you,  Tomlinson!  What  the  devil  did  you  mean 
by  that?"  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  the  miner  drily,  "I  guess  it  ought  to  be 
quite  plain  to  you." 

,     Probyn,  who  looked  around,  saw  that  Hetty  had  vanished 
into  the  shanty. 

"Now,  look  here,  there  really  isn't  the  slightest  reason 
why  you  should  make  an  ass  of  yourself,"  he  said.  "I  am, 
of  course,  not  telling  you  this  because  I  am  afraid  of  any- 
thing you  can  do." 

Tomlinson's  face  grew  a  little  darker  in  hue  as  he  glanced 
at  the  strip  of  crumpled  ribbon  still  in  the  lad's  hand. 

"I  want  that  thing.    Pass  it  across,"  he  said. 

Probyn  smiled,  for  his  recklessness  was,  perhaps,  partly 
accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  there  was  what  is  usually 
termed  good  blood  in  him. 

"I'll  have  considerable  pleasure  in  seeing  you  hanged 
first,"  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  Tomlinson,  "we'll  fix  all  that.  Now,  light 
out  of  this.  You  don't  want  the  circus  right  in  front  of 
the  shanty." 

The  lad  made  a  little  gesture  of  comprehension  as  he 
swung  round,  and  Tomlinson  gravely  walked  after  him 
until  they  could  no  longer  be  seen  from  the  shanty.  Then 
Probyn  turned  to  him  again. 

"We're  far  enough,  I  think,"  he  said. 

He  stood,  strung  up,  but  apparently  impassive,  with  his 


TROOPER  PROBYN'S  MISADVENTURE     173 

left  arm  across  him  and  his  right  hand  clenched  at  his  side, 
and  only  a  suggestion  of  watchfulness  in  his  steady  eyes. 
Tomlinson  smiled  grimly. 

"If  I  were  to  hit  you  hard  I'd  kill  you,  sure.  I'm  raised 
to-day,"  he  said.  "I  guess  a  souse  in  the  creek  will  have 
to  do  instead." 

Prohyn  saw  that  the  issue  must  be  faced,  and  he  was  by 
no  means  deficient  in  courage,  or  he  would  not  have  ridden 
long  with  the  Northwest  Police.  Stepping  forward,  with 
a  thrust  from  his  right  foot,  he  feinted  with  his  left  hand 
at  the  miner's  face,  and  then,  swinging  downwards  with 
lowered  head,  got  in  a  right-hand  body  blow  that  would 
probably  have  staggered  another  man.  Tomlinson,  how- 
ever, took  it  with  no  more  than  a  gasp,  and  flinging  out 
his  right  hand  closed  with  him,  which  was  singularly  un- 
fortunate for  Trooper  Probyn.  He  had  been  accounted 
tolerably  proficient  with  the  gloves  in  another  land,  but 
it  is  not  for  pastime  that  men  fight  in  the  wilderness,  and 
there  the  disablement  of  one's  opponent  by  any  means  avail- 
able is  the  object  of  the  game. 

Probyn  had  the  pride  which  breeds  courage  and  endur- 
ance, as  well  as  vigour ;  but  he  had  not  swung  the  axe  and 
shovel  for  twenty  years,  as  Tomlinson  had  done,  in  the 
strenuous,  unceasing  grapple  with  unsubdued  Nature  which 
hardens  every  muscle  and  sinew  in  the  men  of  the  North- 
west. They  have  the  pride  of  manhood  in  place  of  the 
pride  of  birth,  and  a  grim  optimism  which  chiefly  finds 
expression  in  attempting  that  which  is  apparently  beyond 
accomplishment,  and  in  holding  on,  in  spite  of  frost  and 
snow  and  icy  gale,  until  achievement  comes.  Thus  it  came 
about  that  in  a  very  few  seconds  Trooper  Probyn  recog- 
nized that  he  was  no  match  for  the  miner,  though  he  had 
no  intention  of  admitting  it  or  of  being  put  into  the  creek 
if  he  could  by  any  means  avoid  it. 

For  several  strenuous  minutes  they  reeled,  locked  to- 
gether, about  the  trail,  and  fell  against  the  trees,  while 


m  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

neither  of  them  concerned  himself  greatly  about  the.  strict 
rules  of  the  game.  They  smote  when  it  was  possible  and 
clinched  when  they  could ;  but  all  the  time  they  were  draw- 
ing steadily  nearer  the  creek. 

In  the  meanwhile  Leger  and  Ingleby,  as  well  as  one  or 
two  miners  who  purposed  purchasing  bread  from  Hetty, 
came  out  from  among  the  pines,  and  a  corporal  of  police 
rode  up  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek.  The  miners,  who 
did  not  notice  him,  naturally  stopped. 
,  "It's  that  young  ass  Probyn,"  said  Ingleby.  "No  doubt 
he  deserves  all  he  is  apparently  getting." 

"He  is  in  uniform,  anyway,"  said  Leger.  "We'll  have 
to  stop  them.    Let  the  lad  go,  Tomlinson !" 

Tomlinson  did  not  hear  him,  for  just  then  he  swung  the 
trooper  off  his  feet,  and  staggering  forward  a  pace  or  two 
fell  with  him  into  the  creek.  They  splashed  into  the  water, 
and  apparently  rolled  over  and  over  in  the  midst  of  it, 
while  confused  shouts  rose  from  the  miners. 

"Pull  him  off.  No,  stand  clear.  Let  them  have  a 
show !" 

Then  the  corporal  of  police,  trotting  forward,  pulled  his 
horse  up  at  the  edge  of  the  creek. 

"Let  up  on  that  man,  prospector,"  he  said  sharply. 

Tomlinson  seemed  to  hear  him,  for  he  relaxed  his.  hold 
and  slowly  stood  up,  while  Trooper  Probyn  rose  in  the 
middle  of  the  creek  with  the  water  draining  from  him 
and  blood  on  his  cheek.  The  miners  gathered  round,  but 
the  corporal  sat  stiffly  in  his  saddle  with  expressionless 
» face. 

"Stand  off,  you,"  he  said,  with  a  glance  at  them,  and 
then  turned  to  Probyn.  "Now,  what  in  the  name  of 
thunder  is  the  meaning  of  this  circus?" 

"It's  a  little  difference  of  opinion,"  said  the  trooper. 
"Prospector  Tomlinson  felt  I'd  said  something  insulting 
to  him." 

The  corporal  appeared  to  reflect.     "Considering  where 


TROOPER  PROBYN'S  MISADVENTURE     175 

you  were  sent  to,  I  can't  quite  figure  what  you  were  doing 
here,  anyway;  but  that's  not  the  point,"  he  said.  "I'll 
trouble  you  to  come  along  to  the  outpost,  Tomlinson." 

One  of  the  miners  stepped  forward.  "He's  staying 
where  he  is,"  he  said.  "I  guess  the  trooper  made  the 
trouble  and  only  got  what  he  wanted.  Hadn't  both  of 
you  better  light  out  of  this?" 

There  was  a  little  grim  murmur  of  approbation,  but  the 
corporal;  who  dropped  his  bridle,  looked  at  the  men  with 
steady  eyes. 

"I'm  not  asking  your  opinions,  boys,"  he  said. 

Then  Probyn  turned  to  him.  "As  a  matter  of  fact, 
they're  right  in  one  respect,"  he  said.  "The  little  row  had 
nothing  to  do  with  any  question  of  duty.  It  was  a  private 
affair  of  mine.  If  it  appears  necessary,  you  can  report  it 
to  Captain  Esmond." 

Once  more  the  corporal,  who  was  a  shrewd  man,  ap- 
peared to  reflect.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  saw  your  grey 
tethered  when  I  came  along  the  trail.  You'd  better  get  him. 
If  you're  wanted  we'll  come  along  for  you,  Tomlinson." 

Tomlinson  turned,  and  looked  at  Probyn.  "I  guess," 
he  said,  slowly  and  distinctly,  "if  ever  you  start  the  same 
circus  again  I'll  kill  you." 

The  corporal,  who  did  not  appear  to  hear  him,  though, 
everybody  else  did,  wheeled  his  horse,  and  Probyn  walked 
by  his  stirrup  when  he  rode  away.  Then  Ingleby  turned 
to  Tomlinson. 

"There's  a  good  deal  I  want  to  know,"  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  the  big  miner  drily,  "there's  very  little  you 
need  worry  about.  You  see,  that  young  trooper  isn't  fond 
of  me,  and  there  was  a  kind  of  unpleasantness  when  we  ran 
up  against  each  other." 

"You  were  coming  down  the  trail  from  the  bakery  when 
I  saw  you,"  said  Leger. 

"Yes,"  said  Tomlinson,  "we  were." 


176  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Then,"  said  Leger,  "since  he  ran  up  against  yon, 
Probyn  must  have  been  going  there." 

Tomlinson  appeared  to  be  considering  the  point.  "Well," 
he  said,  "it  looks  quite  like  that." 

There  was  evidently  no  more  to  be  got  out  of  him,  and 
Leger  and  Ingleby  went  up  the  trail  together  towards  the 
bakery.  Tomlinson,  however,  stayed  behind,  and  slipped 
a  little  crumpled  bow  of  ribbon  into  his  pocket. 


XVIII 

INGLEBY  GOES  AWAY 

T  T  was  a  week  after  the  sequestration  of  the  claim,  and 
Ingleby  leaned  against  a  cedar  with  the  firelight  on  his 
face,  which  was  unusually  resolute,  and  a  bundle  of  cloth- 
ing and  blankets  at  his  feet.  Hetty  sat  on  one  of  the  hearth- 
logs  in  the  shadow  watching  him  quietly,  and  Leger  stood 
in  the  doorway  of  the  shanty  with  something  very  like 
anger  in  his  eyes.  He  had  for  the  last  ten  minutes  enlarged 
upon  every  reason  he  could  think  of  why  Ingleby  should 
remain  with  them,  and  the  latter  was  still  apparently  as 
firmly  decided  as  ever  on  going  away. 

"There's  not  a  grain  of  sense  in  your  point  of  view," 
said  Leger.  "It's  sentiment  run  to  seed,  and  sentiment  of 
the  most  maudlin  kind,  at  that.  Of  course,  I  know  all 
this  is  useless — nothing  would  move  you — but  it's  some 
small  relief  to  let  you  know  what  I  think  of  you.  I  suppose 
you  will  admit  that  what  you're  going  to  do  isn't  quite  in 
keeping  with  the  theories  you  once  professed  to  believe  in." 

Hetty,  who  had  a  spice  of  temper,  laughed.  "Walter 
never  believed  in  them — he  only  thought  he  did.  He's 
like  the  rest  of  you.  You  keep  your  ideas  to  talk  about 
and  worry  people  with." 

Ingleby  made  a  little  deprecatory  gesture.  "I've  no 
doubt  I  deserve  it,  Hetty,  but  you  ought  to  see  that  I  can't 
stay  here.  I  should,  in  fact,  have  gone  away  before, 
but  I  felt  almost  sure  we  would  find  the  gold  sooner  or 
later." 

177 


178  DELILAH    OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Who  is  responsible  for  throwing  the  claim  away?" 
broke  in  Leger. 

"Both  of  us,  I  fancy.  Anyway,  that's  not  quite  the 
question." 

Leger  made  a  last  effort.  "Now,"  he  said,  "you  know 
very  well  that  your  chance  of  finding  gold  on  the  new  claim 
is  good,  and  we  can  very  easily  afford  to  grub-stake  you 
until  you  strike  it.  In  this  country  it's  quite  a  common  ar- 
rangement. Apart  from  that — since  you  seem  to  be  so  ab- 
normally sensitive — there's  enough  for  you  and  me  to  do 
chopping  wood  for  the  oven  in  the  evenings  to  square  the 
account  altogether.  I  have,  of  course,  pointed  that  out 
already;  but  if  you  will  make  an  effort,  I  think  you  will 
remember  that  there  was  a  time  when  you  insisted  on 
lending  me  what  was,  in  the  circumstances,  a  considerable 
sum  of  money." 

"I  can  remember  most  clearly  that  only  the  fear  of 
seeing  you  arrested  for  manslaughter  induced  a  certain 
young  lady  to  agree  to  it." 

Hetty  looked  up  sharply.  "I'm  not  going  to  answer  that 
— I'm  too  vexed,"  she  said.  "It  isn't  the  least  use  trying 
to  persuade  him,  Tom." 

"No,"  said  Leger,  with  a  little  gesture  of  resignation, 
"I'm  afraid  it  isn't.  You  are  going  to  work  for  Tom- 
linson,  Walter?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ingleby.  "That  is,  now  and  then — a  day 
or  two  to  keep  me  going  while  I  find  out  what  is  in  the 
claim.  He  wants  more  water,  and  is  putting  up  a  flume. 
I  had  a  five-dollar  bill  from  him  yesterday." 

He  stopped  a  moment,  and  the  firelight  showed  there 
was  a  trace  of  deeper  colour  than  usual  in  his  face  as  he 
held  out  a  little  strip  of  paper  to  Hetty. 

"Will  you  put  that  to  my  credit,  and  let  me  have  two 
loaves  now?"  he  said. 

Leger  said  something  viciously  that  was  not  very  distinct, 


INGLEBY  GOES  AWAY  179 

while  Hetty  sat  still  a  moment  glancing  at  the  paper  with- 
out touching  it,  and  then  gravely  held  out  her  hand. 

"You  will  get  them  in  the  store,"  she  said. 

Ingleby  disappeared  into  the  shadows,  and  the  two  who 
were  left  said  nothing  whatever,  but  Hetty  moved  a  trifle 
so  that  Leger  could  not  see  her  face.  Then  Ingleby  came 
back  with  the  bread,  and  quietly  slung  his  traps  about  him 
before  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"I  don't  want  to  go,  Hetty,  but  it  can't  be  helped,"  he 
said.     "Of  course,  I'll  come  back  often  in  the  evenings." 

Hetty  did  not  move  out  of  the  shadow,  and  though 
Ingleby  did  not  seem  to  notice  it  there  was  a  curious  hard- 
ness in  her  voice. 

"Well,"  she  said  quietly,  "I  suppose  you  know  best." 

Ingleby  turned  away,  and  shook  himself  in  a  fashion  that 
suggested  reljef  as  he  swung  down  the  trail.  He  had  left 
a  good  deal  behind  him,  and  it  was  a  hard  thing  he  had 
done,  much  harder,  in  fact,  than  he  had  ever  anticipated; 
but  he  could  not  live  on  the  bounty  of  a  girl.  For  all  that, 
he  shrank  from  the  loneliness  of  the  life  before  him,  and 
his  fancy  would  dwell  upon  the  evenings  he  had  spent  with 
Hetty  and  Leger  beside  the  crackling  fire.  Hetty  was  by 
no  means  clever — at  least,  in  some  respects ;  but  he  did  not 
expect  her  to  be  so,  and  where  she  was  there  was  also 
cheerfulness  and  tranquillity.  Now  the  bush  in  front  of 
him  seemed  very  black  and  lonely. 

He  had  scarcely  disappeared  when  Hetty,  rising  slowly, 
crumpled  a  strip  of  paper  in  her  hand  and  flung  it  into 
the  fire.  As  it  happened,  it  fell  upon  the  side  of  one  of 
the  logs  a  little  distance  from  the  hottest  blaze,  and  Leger 
made  a  little  instinctive  movement,  and  then  sat  still 
again. 

"I  suppose  you  realize  what  that  is?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Hetty,  whose  face  showed  flushed  in  the 
flickering  light,  "it  is  a  five-dollar  bill."  , 

Leger  looked  at  her  sharply,  and  then  laughed.    "Well," 


180  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

he  said,  "I  suppose  you  can  afford  it — and,  after  all,  I'm 
not  sure  it  isn't  the  best  thing  you  could  do  with  it." 

Hetty  said  nothing  but  went  into  the  shanty,  and  it 
was  next  morning  before  Leger,  who  looked  very  thought- 
ful as  he  sat  beside  the  fire,  saw  any  more  of  her.  He  had 
already  realized  that  the  possession  of  a  pretty  sister  is  a 
responsibility. 

For  a  week  or  two  afterwards  Ingleby  alternately  as- 
sisted Tomlinson  in  the  building  of  a  flume  and  worked 
on  his  claim,  but  it  was,  perhaps,  fortunate  that  he  had 
now  shaken  off  the  fierce  impatience  which  had  driven  him 
to  overtax  his  strength  when  hope  was  strong  in  him. 
Indeed,  of  late  a  curious  lassitude  had  crept  upon  him, 
though  he  still  toiled  on ;  and  it  was  only  the  fact  that  pro- 
visions were  a  consideration  which  induced  him  to  ac- 
company Sewell  and  Tomlinson  on  an  expedition  to  look 
for  a  black-tail  deer. 

Tomlinson  brought  a  tent  with  him,  and  Ingleby  and 
Sewell  were  sitting  outside  it  one  evening  when  Trooper 
Probyn  and  the  corporal  came  up  leading  a  laden  horse. 
Horses  were  very  little  use  for  riding  in  that  country,  but 
there  were  trails  they  could  with  some  difficulty  be  led 
along,  and  the  few  strips  of  natural  prairie  afforded  them  a 
precarious  sustenance.  There  was  also  no  other  means  of 
transport  except  the  miner's  back.  The  corporal  bade 
Probyn  pull  the  beast  up  beside  the  tent  and  loosed  the 
pack-lariat. 

"  You  can  get  up  when  we've  hove  the  traps  off,  and  see 
if  the  Indian's  there,"  he  said.  "If  he  is,  bring  him  along. 
I  guess  we'll  make  nothing  by  pushing  on  to-night." 

Trooper  Probyn,  swinging  himself  into  the  saddle, 
scrambled  up  the  hillside,  which  was  comparatively  clear 
of  undergrowth  just  there,  while  the  corporal  sat  down 
beside  the  fire. 

"We've  had  supper.  You  don't  mind  our  camping  here?" 
he  asked. 


INGLEBY  GOES  AWAY  181 

Sewell,  who  lay,  pipe  in  hand,  upon  a  bundle  of  with- 
ered fern,  raised  his  head. 

"There's  room  in  the  tent.  It's  a  fair-sized  one,"  he 
said.     "You're  going  on  into  the  ranges?" 

The  corporal  looked  at  him  meditatively.  "Eight 
through  to  the  Westerhouse  Gully,  if  we  can  get  there. 
It  appears  a  blame  rough  country;  but  Captain  Esmond 
has  a  notion  that  a  trail  could  be  made  this  way,  and  from 
Westerhouse  one  could  make  the  Yukon.  It's  part  of  his 
business  to  see  what  can  be  done  to  open  up  communica- 
tion." 

Sewell  turned  and  glanced  towards  the  snow  which 
stretched  in  a  great  white  rampart  across  the  valley. 
Beneath  it  a  tremendous  wall  of  rock  dropped  to  the  pines 
below,  which  crawled  round  the  crests  and  up  the  gullies 
of  a  desolation  of  jumbled  crags.  Dark  forest  streaked 
by  filmy  mist  filled  the  devious  hollows  at  their  feet. 

"You  are  right  about  the  country.  I  should  imagine  it 
to  be  a  particularly  rough  one,"  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  the  corporal,  "it  seems  quite  certain  the 
Indians  used  to  go  through  after  the  deer  and  salmon; 
and  it's  believed  that  one  or  two  white  men  have  made 
Westerhouse  that  way,  too." 

He  stopped  a  moment,  and  glanced  at  Sewell.  "You 
were  away  somewhere  quite  a  while,  weren't  you?" 

Sewell  laughed,  and  Ingleby,  who  watched  them  both, 
wondered  whether  the  corporal  knew  that  he  was  one  of 
the  few  white  men  who  had  traversed  the  denies  of  the 
divide. 

"I  was,"  he  said.  "Still,  you  see,  it  really  isn't  any 
other  person's  business  where  I  go  to." 

The  corporal  nodded  with  dry  good-humour.  "I  guess 
it  wasn't  Westerhouse,  anyway,"  he  said.  "I'm  not  sure 
we'll  get  there,  though  an  Indian  came  along  to  the  outpost 
who  figured  he  could  take  us." 

Ingleby  glanced  at  Sewell  with  a  little  smile.    The  cor- 


182  DELILAH   OE   THE    SNOWS 

poral's  belief  in  the  capabilities  of  the  police  was  admirable, 
and  more  or  less  warranted,  for  the  wardens  of  the  North- 
west are  hard-riding  men;  but  he  was,  after  all,  from  the 
prairie,  and  horses  are  very  little  used  in  the  Green  Kiver 
country.  Ingleby,  however,  fancied  he  was  not  quite  certain 
that  communication  had  not  been  already  effected  with  the 
"Westerhouse  Gully.  Sewell,  who  apparently  understood 
Ingleby's  glance,  said  nothing. 

"There  are  only  two  of  you  here?"  asked  the  corporal. 

"No,"  said  Ingleby.  "Tomlinson  is  with  us.  He  went 
out  this  afternoon  to  look  for  a  deer,  and  should  be  back  any 
minute  now." 

The  corporal  looked  thoughtful.  "I'm  not  quite  sure 
we'd  have  camped  here  if  I'd  known  that,"  he  said.  "  Still, 
if  you  can  keep  your  man  in  hand,  I  guess  I  can  answer  for 
the  trooper." 

Ingleby  fancied  they  could  promise  this,  and  for  a  while 
nothing  more  was  said.  Darkness  crept  up  the  valley, 
though  there  was  still  a  saffron  light  on  the  towering  snow, 
and  the  peaks  that  lay  in  shadow  cut  with  a  cold,  blue 
whiteness  against  a  wondrous  green  transparency.  Then 
the  dew  began  to  settle,  calling  up  the  drowsy  odours  of 
the  pines,  and  an  impressive  stillness  pervaded  the  moun- 
tain solitude.  It  grew  colder  rapidly,  and  Ingleby,  who  rose 
and  flung  fresh  branches  on  the  fire,  stood  looking  towards 
the  west,  a  spare  black  figure,  with  outline  clean-cut  as  a 
cameo  against  the  flickering  light,  when  the  sharp  ringing 
of  a  rifle  came  suddenly  down  the  valley.  It  rang  from 
rock  to  rock,  as  the  hillsides  flung  it  back,  and  died  away 
among  the  dimness  of  the  pines. 

"Tomlinson!"  said  Sewell.  "I  fancy  he  has  got  that 
deer.  There's  scarcely  wood  enough  to  keep  the  fire  in 
until  morning,  Walter.  If  you  don't  want  to  light  another 
for  breakfast,  hadn't  you  better  cut  some  more?" 

Ingleby,  who  took  up  an  axe,  moved  back  into  the  bush, 
and  the  silence  was  broken  by  a  rhythmic  thudding  that 


INGLEBY  GOES  AWAY  183 

vibrated  among  the  shadowy  trunks,  which  was  unfortunate, 
because  it  tended  to  confuse  the  corporal's  hearing.  He 
was  an  opinionated  man,  and  a  good  deal  depended  upon 
his  being  able  to  correctly  locate  a  sound  just  then.  He 
would,  however,  probably  have  done  so,  had  his  attention 
not  been  fixed  upon  the  tobacco  he  was  shredding.  A 
minute  or  two  had  passed  when  the  crash  of  a  rifle  came 
down  the  valley  again,  and  he  laughed. 

"I  guess  your  man  didn't  get  that  deer  right  off,"  he 
said. 

Sewell  smiled,  and  waited  until  Ingleby  came  back  with 
an  armful  of  wood. 

"  Our  friend  suggests  that  Tomlinson  has  been  throwing 
cartridges  away,"  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  Ingleby,  "it's  a  thing  he  very  seldom  does, 
and  I  feel  almost  sure  the  last  shot  came  from  a  different 
direction,  and  was  farther  off.  Probably  Trooper  Probyn 
fired  at  something  in  the  bush." 

It  was  an  unfortunate  suggestion,  for  the  corporal,  who 
had  spent  a  good  many  years  on  the  lonely  levels  of  the 
prairie,  was,  with  some  reason,  proud  of  his  fine  sense  of 
hearing,  and  it  by  no  means  pleased  him  that  a  young 
man  new  to  the  wilderness  should  presume  to  throw  the 
least  doubt  upon  his  ability  to  locate  a  rifle  shot.  This 
naturally  confirmed  him  in  his  belief  in  the  correctness  of 
his  opinion. 

"It  was  Tomlinson  who  fired  twice,"  he  said.  "I  guess 
Probyn  knows  better  than  to  blaze  away  Government 
ammunition  without  permission." 

Ingleby  said  nothing.  The  point  was,  or  so  it  appeared 
to  him,  of  no  importance ;  and  the  three,  drawing  in  closer 
to  the  fire,  sat  smoking  in  silence  while  the  pale  stars  came 
out  above  the  pines.  At  last  there  was  a  tramp  of  feet, 
and  Tomlinson  strode  out  of  the  shadows  carrying  a  deer 
with  its  forelegs  drawn  over  his  shoulders.  He  threw  it 
down,  and  stood  flushed  and  gasping,  with  the  firelight  on 


184  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

his  face.  Ingleby  fancied  he  did  not  see  the  corporal, 
who  could,  however,  see  him. 

"I  suppose  you  didn't  meet  Trooper  Probyn?"  asked 
Sewell. 

Tomlinson  started  a  little,  and  there  was  for  a  moment 
a  curious  look  in  his  face,  which  did  not  escape  the  cor- 
poral's attention. 

"No,"  he  said  shortly.  "I  don't  know  that  I  want  to. 
What  is  he  doing  here?" 

"He  went  out  to  meet  an  Indian  who's  to  show  us  a 
trail  across  the  divide,"  said  the  corporal.  "Bode  out 
'most  an  hour  ago.    He'd  keep  the  range  side." 

"Then,  as  I  came  down  the  south  fork  of  the  creek, 
I  wouldn't  have  met  him,  anyway,"  said  Tomlinson 
promptly.  He  stood  still  a  moment,  and  then  turned  to 
Ingleby.  "Hang  that  deer  up,  Walter.  I'll  have  supper,  if 
it's  ready." 

Sewell  set  food  and  a  can  of  green  tea  before  him,  and 
he  ate  in  silence  until  Ingleby  glanced  at  him. 

"Did  you  get  that  deer  a  little  while  ago?"  he  said. 

"No.     It  was  two  hours  since,  anyway." 

"Still,  we  heard  you  shooting." 

Tomlinson,  who  was  an  excellent  shot,  and  somewhat 
proud  of  the  fact,  laughed  in  a  slightly  embarrassed 
fashion. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  guess  you  may  have  done  so,  but  I 
didn't  get  the  deer.  It  was  in  the  fern,  and  the  light  was 
going.  I  just  got  the  one  shot,  and  it  was  too  dark  to 
follow  up  the  trail." 

"One  shot?"  said  Ingleby,  with  a  little  smile.  "The 
corporal  heard  two,  both  close  together,  and  there  certainly 
was  another." 

"Then  it  was  another  man  who  fired  it,"  said  Tomlinson 
shortly.    "I  guess  I  don't  often  waste  cartridges." 

The  corporal,  who  was  usually  a  trifle  persistent*  took 


INGLEBY  GOES  AWAY  185 

tip  Tomlinson's  rifle  and  pushed  back  the  slide  of  the 
magazine. 

"A  forty-four  Marlin !  It  was  full  when  you  went  out?" 
he  said. 

"Yes,  sir.  Two  cartridges  gone.  You'll  find  one  bullet 
in  yonder  deer." 

The  corporal,  for  no  particular  reason,  jerked  a  cart- 
ridge into  the  chamber,  and  then  snapped  it  out.  "You 
use  nicked  bullets?" 

Tomlinson  did  not,  as  everybody  noticed,  appear  exactly 
pleased.  In  fact,  it  was  not  difficult  to  fancy  that  he 
was  a  trifle  embarrassed.  It  is  a  little  easier  to  bring 
down  a  deer  with  a  bullet  that  will  split  up  into  a  torn 
strip  of  metal  when  it  meets  a  bone  than  with  one  that  has 
a  solid  nose  and  makes  a  clean,  punctured  wound. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  don't  know  any  reason  why  I 
shouldn't,  and  now  and  then  I  get  the  hack-saw  and  cut 
one  or  two  across.    When  I  go  shooting  it's  a  deer  I  want." 

Nothing  more  was  said  on  that  point,  though  Ingleby 
fancied  that  the  corporal  was  a  little  incredulous  still, 
He  rose,  and  looked  up  the  trail  as  though  listening. 

"I  can't  quite  figure  what  is  keeping  Probyn,"  he  said. 
"  The  Indian  was  to  meet  him  at  sundown,  where  the  North 
Creek  fork  twists  round  the  rocks,  and  he  should  have  beeii 
back  by  now." 

They  sat  silent  a  minute  or  two,  but  no  sound  came  out 
of  the  silence  of  the  pines.  There  was  not  even  the  murmur 
of  water.    The  wilderness  was  very  still. 

Then  Tomlinson  laughed.  "Perhaps  he's  not  coming 
back." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Well,"  said  the  miner,  "I've  heard  Esmond  has  been 
worrying  the  boys  lately.  They  don't  seem  quite  fond  of 
him,  anyway.  It  kind  of  seemed  to  me  Probyn  might  have 
lit  out  without  you." 

Now  it  is  not  often  that  a  trooper  takes  the  risk  of  dis- 


186  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

charging  himself  from  the  ranks  of  the  Northwest  Police, 
but  the  thing  has  been  done.  It  was,  however,  unfortunate 
that  Tomlinson  made  the  suggestion.  The  corporal's  face 
grew  a  trifle  grim  as  he  looked,  at  him. 

"I've  no  use  for  that  kind  of  talk,"  he  said.  "There's 
not  a  man  up  here  I'm  not  'most  as  sure  of  as  I  am  of 
myself." 

"Then  he's  probably  up  there  with  the  Indian,"  said. 
Ingleby.  "It  would  be  a  little  risky  leading  a  horse  down 
the  big  gully  in  the  dark." 

Another  hour  passed,  and  as  there  was  still  no  appear- 
ance of  Trooper  Probyn,  the  corporal  decided  that  Ingleby 
was  right,  and,  rolling  themselves  in  their  blankets,  they 
lay  down  inside  the  tent.  Tbey  were  fast  asleep  when  a 
beat  of  hoofs  came  out  of  the  silence  of  the  night  as  a 
jaded  horse  floundered  along  the  hillside,  and  the  corporal 
wakened  only  when  there  was  a  trampling  of  undergrowth 
outside  the  tent.  He  shook  the  blankets  from  him  and. 
stood  up. 

"Is  that  you,  Probyn?  Tether  the  beast  and  come  in," 
he  said. 

There  was  no  answer,  and.  the  corporal,  stooping  sud- 
denly, touched  Tomlinson's  shoulder. 

"I  guess  you  had  better  get  up.  You're  awake,  Ingleby  ?" 
he  asked. 

Ingleby,  who  had  been  roused  by  the  sound,  noticed  that 
he  had  not  asked  Tomlinson  this;  but  they  were  both  on 
their  feet  in  another  moment  and  went  out  of  the  tent. 
The  fire  had  almost  burned  out,  but  a  few  red  brands  still 
gave  a  faint  light,  and  the  spires  of  the  pines  seemed  a 
little  blacker  and  sharper  than  they  had  been  when  the 
men  went  to  sleep.  It  was  very  cold,  for  dawn  was  coming, 
and  they  shivered  a  little  as  they  looked  about  them.  There 
was  nothing  to  excite  apprehension,  only  a  jaded  horse 
that  stood  just  within  the  uncertain  light  with  loose  bridle 
and  lowered  head,  but  Ingleby  felt  a  curious  uneasiness 


INGLEBY  GOES  AWAY  187 

come  upon  him.  The  sight  was  unpleasantly  sug- 
gestive. 

"Probyn!"  the  corporal  called  again. 

There  was  no  answer,  and,  though  he  scarcely  knew  why, 
Ingleby  felt  that  he  did  not  expect  one.  Then  the  horse, 
moving  very  lamely,  walked  up  to  the  corporal,  whom  it 
apparently  recognized,  and  he  laid  a  hand  upon  the  bridle. ' 

"Throw  on  a  piece  or  two  of  wood  and  stir  the  fire,"  he 
said. 

Ingleby  did  it,  and  nothing  more  was  said  until  a  blaze 
sprang  up.  Then  the  corporal  ran  his  hand  along  the 
horse's  coat.  There  was  a  smear  of  blood  on  it  when  he 
glanced  at  it. 

"Been  travelling  quite  fast  before  he  dried,"  he  said. 
"Through  some  thick  bush,  too;  here's  a  scar  where  a 
branch  ripped  the  hide.  Looks  to  me  as  though  he'd  been 
scared  and  bolted,  though  I  don't  quite  see  what  has 
lamed  him." 

The  rest  watched  him  with  a  curious  intentness  while 
he  lifted  one  of  the  beast's  hoofs.  It  was  plain  to  all  of 
them  that  there  was  something  wrong,  but  nobody  cared  to 
give  his  misgivings  vent.  Then  as  the  firelight  blazed  up 
a  little  more  Ingleby  touched  the  corporal. 

"You  are  looking  in  the  wrong  place,"  he  said. 

The  corporal  raised  his  head,  and  saw  a  deep,  red  scar. 
Stooping,  he  drew  a  brand  from  the  fire,  and  the  men  looked 
at  one  another  uneasily  when  he  held  it  up. 

"Yes,"  he  said  grimly.  "That  was  made  by  a  bullet. 
I  figure  the  beast  was  going  away  from  the  man  who 
fired  it." 

Again  there  was  silence  for  almost  a  minute.  The  pines 
were  growing  a  trifle  blacker  and  clearer  in  outline,  and 
it  was  very  cold.  Ingleby  shivered  again,  for  a  curious 
creepy  feeling  troubled  him.  The  corporal  stood  very  still, 
a  tense  black  figure,  apparently  gazing  fixedly  at  Tomlinson. 
It  was  the  latter  who  spoke  first. 


188  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"I  fired  once — at  the  deer,"  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  the  corporal,  with  a  curious  certainty  that 
jarred  on  Ingleby's  nerves,  "Probyn's  back  yonder,  and  it 
will  be  daylight  in  an  hour.    "We'd  better  look  for  him." 

Then  he  turned  towards  the  jaded  horse.  "It's  kind  of 
unfortunate  that  beasts  can't  talk." 

Nobody  said  anything  further,  and  they  plodded  silently 
into  the  gloom  that  still  shrouded  all  the  hillside.  It  was 
dusk  when  they  came  back  again,  but  they  had  found  no 
sign  of  Trooper  Probyn,  or  anything  that  might  account 
far  his  disappearance,  except  an  empty  44-cartridge  lying 
not  far  from  his  trail. 


XIX 

TROOPER  PROBYN  COMES  BACK 

TT  was  late  next  night  when  the  corporal  reached  the 
police  outpost,  and  on  the  following  morning  Esmond 
and  Major  Coulthurst  sat  at  a  little  table  in  the  latter's 
dwelling.  The  corporal,  who  had  told  his  story  concisely, 
had  just  gone  out,  and  Coulthurst,  who  rolled  an  unlighted 
cigar  between  his  fingers,  was  grave  in  face.  Esmond 
glanced  at  him  inquiringly. 

"It  is,  in  one  respect,  not  exactly  your  business ;  but  y«u 
and  I  are  between  us  responsible  for  the  tranquillity  of  the 
Green  River  country,  and  I  should  be  glad  of  your  opinion, 
sir,"  he  said.  "I  don't  want  to  make  a  mistake  just  now. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  most  of  the  men  are  in  an  uncertain 
temper,  and  they  do  not  seem  pleased  with  me." 

Coulthurst  smiled,  a  trifle  drily.  "I  presume  you  don't 
want  me  to  go  into  that?" 

"No.  The  fact  is,  after  all,  of  no  great  importance. 
The  point  is — what  do  you  make  of  the  corporal's  story?" 

The  major  appeared  to  be  taxing  his  brain  for  a  moment 
or  two.  "Not  being  a  detective,  I  can  make  nothing  at 
all.    I  suppose  he  is  trustworthy?" 

"As  reliable  a  man  as  there  is  in  the  force.  Let  me  try 
to  set  out  what  we  know.  Tomlinson  thrashed  Probyn 
and  pitched  him  into  the  creek.  Neither  of  them  would 
explain  the  cause  of  the  trouble,  which  is  a  trifle  signifi- 
cant; but  Tomlinson  was  heard  to  say  that  if  the  trooper 
played  the  same  game  again  he  would  kill  him.     He  is 

189 


190  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

apparently  not  an  impulsive  man,  and  the  corporal  seems 
to  think  it  was  a  warning  and  not  mere  bluster." 

"That,"  said  Coulthurst,  "gives  you  a  little  to  go  upon. 
We  can  admit  that  Tomlinson  fancied  he  had  a  grievance 
against  the  trooper.  He  is  not  the  man  to  say  a  thing  of 
that  kind  without  sufficient  reason." 

"Then  Probyn  leaves  Sewell's  camp,  and  never  comes 
back.  Sewell,  Ingleby,  and  the  corporal  hear  two  shots, 
apparently  from  the  same  part  of  the  range." 

"I  understand  Ingleby  does  not  admit  that." 

Esmond  smiled.  "One  would  scarcely  expect  Ingleby  to 
agree  with  a  corporal  of  police.  Still,  I  may  point  out  that 
he  has  been  less  than  a  year  in  the  bush,  and  the  corporal 
has,  at  least,  spent  most  of  his  life  on  the  prairie.  You 
know  the  effect  the  life  my  troopers  lead  has  in  quickening 
the  perceptions.  Most  of  them  could  locate  and  tell  you 
the  meaning  of  a  sound  I  couldn't  hear  at  all." 

Coulthurst  made  a  sign  of  concurrence.  "His  view  is 
certainly  worth  a  good  deal  more  than  Ingleby's.  Still,  ad- 
mitting that  the  two  shots  were  fired  from  about  the  same 
place,  it  doesn't  necessarily  follow  that  they  were  fired  by 
the  same  person." 

"We  know  that,  leaving  out  ProbjTi,  Tomlinson  and  the 
Indian  could  have  been  the  only  men  on  that  part  of  the 
range  just  then.  When  Tomlinson  appeared  he  seemed 
disconcerted  to  find  the  corporal  there.  He  also  showed 
signs  of  embarrassment  when  questioned  about  the  shots, 
and  persisted  that  he  fired  no  more  than  one.  When  told 
which  way  the  trooper  had  gone  he  stated  that  he  had  come 
in  just  the  opposite  one.  It  is  significant  that  he  did  not 
mention  where  he  had  been  until  then.  Several  hours  later 
Probyn's  horse  came  back  grazed  by  a  bullet,  and  a  forty- 
four  cartridge  was  found  beside  the  trail.  That  is  the  size 
of  rifle  Tomlinson  uses." 

"It  seems  to  me  the  several  hours  are  the  difficulty." 

"Not  necessarily.    Whoever  shot  Trooper  Probyn  would 


TROOPER  PROBYN  COMES  BACK       191 

naturally  be  afraid  of  his  horse  doing  exactly  what  it  did, 
and  fired  at  it.  The  wounded  beast  would  probably  run  as 
long  as  it  was  able.  It  is  evident  that  it  must  have  smashed 
through  several  thickets.  Somebody  fired  at  it,  and  the 
man  who  did  so  was  the  one  who  shot  Probyn." 

"You  don't  know  he  was  shot.  I'm  not  sure  I  should 
find  it  necessary  to  keep  quite  as  tight  a  hand  on  your 
troopers  as  you  do,"  said  the  major  suggestively. 

Esmond  flushed  a  little.  "I  feel  absolutely  certain  the 
lad  never  intended  to  give  us  the  slip." 

"There  were  two  men  in  the  vicinity  about  that  time," 
said  Coulthurst  reflectively. 

"Tomlinson  was  known  to  have  a  grievance  against 
Probyn.  The  Indian,  who  apparently  did  not  turn  up  at 
all,  had  never  seen  him.  Men  do  not  kill  one  another  with- 
out a  strong  inducement,  and  nobody  would  expect  to  find 
much  money  on  a  police  trooper." 

"His  carbine,"  said  the  major,  "would  be  worth  a  little." 

"The  man  had  an  excellent  rifle  of  his  own." 

"Well,"  said  Coulthurst,  "it  is  tolerably  easy  to  see 
what  all  this  points  to,  but  I  could  never  quite  believe 
Tomlinson  would  do  the  thing.  There's  another  point  that 
strikes  me." 

Esmond  appeared  expectant,  though  he  had  consulted 
Coulthurst  more  from  a  sense  of  duty  than  because  he 
looked  for  any  brilliant  suggestion. 

"It's  rather  an  important  one,"  said  the  major  gravely. 
"You  can't  well  have  a  murder  without  a  corpse,  you  see." 

Esmond  failed  to  hide  a  little  sardonic  smile.  "That  is 
a  trifle  obvious,  sir.    You  have  no  advice  to  offer  me  ?" 

"I  have.  It's  good  as  far  as  it  goes.  Lie  low,  and  keep 
your  eyes  open  until  you  find  Probyn." 

Esmond  rose.  "I  suppose  that  is  the  only  thing,  after 
all,  though  it  looks  very  much  like  wasting  time.  I  feel 
quite  sure  there  will  be  a  nicked  forty-four  bullet  in  him 
when  I  do." 


192  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

He  went  out;  but  the  longer  he  considered  the  major's 
advice  the  more  reasonable  it  appeared  to  him.  Esmond, 
with  all  his  shortcomings,  had  a  keen  sense  of  duty,  and 
had  he  consulted  his  own  inclination  would  have  wasted  no 
time  in  seizing  Tomlinson.  He  was,  however,  quite  shrewd 
enough  to  recognize  that  he  was  not  regarded  with  favour, 
and  that,  although  the  major  did  not  seem  to  realize  it, 
the  miners  were  not  likely  to  content  themselves  with 
looking  on  while  he  did  anything  that  did  not  meet  their 
views.  He  had  reasons  for  believing  that  once  Tomlin- 
son's  culpability  was  evident  he  need  expect  no  trouble 
from  them;  but  it  was  equally  plain  that  unless  he  had 
definite  proof  it  would  be  a  risky  thing  to  lay  hands  on 
him.  Esmond  was  arrogant  and  impulsive,  but  he  had 
discovered  in  the  Northwest  that  it  is  not  always  advisable 
to  run  counter  to  popular  opinion,  and  in  this  case  there 
was  a  faint  probability  that  Tomlinson's  friends  might  be 
right.  He  therefore  set  himself  to  wait  as  patiently  as  he 
could  until  Trooper  Probyn  should  be  found;  while  the 
men,  who  for  the  most  part  believed  Probyn  to  be  living, 
waited  for  him  to  come  back — which  he  eventually  did, 
though  by  no  means  in  the  fashion  they  had  expected. 

There  had  been  a  sudden  rise  of  temperature,  and  a  warm 
wind  from  the  Pacific  had  sent  the  white  mists  streaming 
across  the  mountain  land.  It  had  rained  for  several  days, 
as  it  usually  does  in  the  northern  wilderness  in  those 
circumstances,  and  the  snow  on  the  lower  slopes  had 
melted  under  the  warm  deluge.  The  river  swirled  by, 
thick  with  the  wreckage  of  the  forests  the  snow  had  brought 
down,  frothing  between  its  crumbling  banks ;  and  on  a  cer- 
tain Saturday  evening  most  of  the  men  in  the  valley  as- 
sembled by  the  ford  where  the  trail  crept  perilously  down 
the  opposite  side  of  the  canon.  It  appeared  very  doubtful 
whether  any  man  or  beast  could  cross  it  then,  but  the 
freighter,  with  mails  and  provisions,  was  already  overdue, 
and  they  had  awaited  him  anxiously  for  a  week  or  so.    It 


TROOPER  PROBYN  COMES  BACK       193 

was  possible  that  he  might  arrive  that  evening;  and,  in  any 
case,  the  six  o'clock  supper  was  over  and  there  was  very- 
little  else  to  do. 

Ingleby,  Leger,  Hetty,  and  Tomlinson  were  there  with 
the  rest,  and  they  sat  among  the  roots  of  a  great  cedar 
where  it  was  a  little  drier.  The  rain  had  stopped  at  last, 
but  all  the  pines  were  dripping,  and  the  river  came  swirling 
out  of  a  curtain  of  drifting  mist.  The  hoarse  roar  it  made 
filled  all  the  canon. 

Hetty  was  vacantly  watching  the  slow  whirl  of  an  eddy 
when  a  great  trunk  that  plunged  into  it  held  her  eye.  It 
had  been  a  stately  hemlock  well  over  a  hundred  feet  in 
height  and  great  of  girth,  and  now  it  gyrated  slowly  round 
the  pool,  a  splendid  wreck,  with  far-flung  limbs  that 
thrashed  the  water  as  they  rose  and  fell.  Then  the  great 
butt  tilted,  and  there  was  a  crash  that  rang  high  above  the 
turmoil  of  the  flood  as  the  branches  that  smashed  and 
splintered  struck  a  boulder  whose  wet  head  rose  just  above 
the  foam.  The  forks  held  for  a  moment,  and  then  the 
ponderous  trunk  swung  again  and,  with  its  shattered  limbs 
whirling  about  it,  drove  madly  down  the  white  rush  of  a 
rapid. 

It  was  an  impressive  sight,  and  the  sound  of  rending 
and  smashing  was  more  impressive  still;  but  when  the 
trunk  had  gone  Hetty  found  her  attention  fixed  upon  the 
pool.  It  swirled  and  lapped  upon  the  rocks  with,  nothing 
on  its  surface  now  but  muddy  smears  of  foam,  but  she 
watched  it  with  a  vague  sense  of  expectancy.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  she  and  that  sullen  eddy  alike  were  waiting 
for  what  should  follow.  Another  trunk,  with  branches 
that  heaved  out  of  the  turmoil  and  sank  into  it  again,  was 
coming  down  the  river,  but  a  dusky,  half-submerged  object 
slid  on  in  front  of  it.  Hetty  could  scarcely  see  it  save 
when  it  was  lifted  by  the  buffeting  of  the  flood,  until  it 
plunged  into  the  head  of  the  eddy.  Then  she  rose  sud- 
denly. 


19*  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Look  at  it,"  she  said.  "It's  like — a  bundle  of  old 
clothes !" 

Ingleby,  who  was  nearest  her,  stood  up.  The  light  was 
growing  dim  in  the  canon,  and  it  was  a  moment  before 
he  could  make  out  what  she  pointed  to.  Hetty,  however, 
was  staring  at  it  with  a  curious  intensity,  and  there  was,  he 
noticed,  apprehension  in  her  eyes.  The  object  drove  on 
quietly,  an  insignificant  dusky  blur,  swinging  and  swaying 
with  the  pulsations  of  the  river,  and  Ingleby  felt  the  girl's 
hand  close  suddenly  on  his  arm. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  little  gasp,  "it's  coming  straight 
here.    I'm  afraid  of  it,  Walter." 

The  thing  swung  in  towards  them  with  the  whirl  of  the 
eddy,  and  Ingleby  had  for  a  moment  a  glimpse  of  a  white 
patch  in  the  water  that  was  horribly  suggestive  of  a  face. 
Then  he  seized  Hetty's  hand,  and  drew  her  with  him  as 
he  turned  away. 

"Stay  there!"  he  said,  when  a  great  pine  rose  between 
them  and  the  river,  and  went  scrambling  back  to  the 
water's  edge. 

Two  or  three  other  men,  among  whom  was  Tomlinson, 
had  reached  it  by  this  time,  and  Sewell  stood  on  a  boulder 
gazing  at  the  stream,  while  the  dusky  object,  drawn  almost 
under  now,  swung  by  amidst  a  rush  of  foam.  Then  he 
stepped  down,  and  looked  steadily  at  the  men  about  him. 

"I  fancy  Trooper  Probyn  has  come  back,"  he  said. 

Ingleby  was  close  beside  him,  and  for  a  moment  the  two 
men  looked  into  each  other's  eyes.  In  less  than  another 
minute  the  object  they  had  seen  would  swing  out  with  the 
outflow  at  the  tail  of  the  pool,  and  the  long  white  rapid 
would  whirl  it  beyond  their  reach  into  the  gloom  again. 
Night  was  close  at  hand,  and,  if  they  let  him  pass,  Trooper 
Probyn  would  by  morning  have  travelled  far  into  the  heart 
of  a  wilderness  where  it  was  scarcely  likely  that  any  of  them 
would  ever  overtake  him.  The  rivers  of  the  North  run 
fast,  and  that  is  a  country  wherein  the  strongest  man  must 


TROOPER  PROBYN  COMES  BACK       195 

travel  slowly.  It  seemed  to  Ingleby  that  it  might  be  better 
to  let  him  go.  Then  he  was  ashamed  of  the  doubt  that 
this  implied,  and  Sewell,  who  knew  what  he  was  thinking, 
glanced  for  just  a  second  in  Tomlinson's  direction. 

"One  can't  hide  the  truth.  It  will  come  out,"  he  said, 
and  then  raised  his  voice.  "That's  a  man  we  have  some- 
thing to  do  for.  The  rapid  will  have  him  in  a  minute, 
boys." 

Tomlinson  was  first  into  the  water,  with  Ingleby  almost 
at  his  side,  and  the  rest  floundering  and  splashing  close  be- 
hind. They  went  straight,  while  the  thing  that  swung 
with  the  eddy  went  round,  but  they  were  in  the  lip  of  the 
rapid  before  they  came  up  with  it.  Ingleby  gasped  as  he 
braced  himself  against  the  flood  which  broke  in  a  white 
swirl  to  his  waist,  while  the  stream-borne  gravel  smote  his 
legs,  and  he  clutched  at  the  big  miner  as  Trooper  Probyn 
drove  down  on  them. 

He  evaded  Tomlinson,  but  Ingleby,  stooping,  seized  his 
uniform,  and  tightened  his  hold  on  his  companion  as  his 
feet  were  dragged  from  under  him.  He  could  almost  have 
fancied  that  Trooper  Probyn  struggled  to  be  free  from 
them,  and  while  the  current  frothed  about  him  Tomlinson 
was  dragged  backwards  by  the  strain.  Ingleby  went  under, 
still  clinging  fiercely  to  the  sodden  tunic,  and  for  a  second 
or  two  it  seemed  that  all  of  them,  the  dead  and  the  living, 
must  go  down  the  rapid  together,  in  which  case  no  man 
could  have  distinguished  between  them  when  they  were 
washed  out  at  the  tail  of  it.  Then  a  man  clinging  to  his 
comrade  with  one  hand  seized  Tomlinson;  there  was  a 
straining  of  hardened  muscles,  a  wild  splashing  and  floun- 
dering, and,  while  one  who  leaned  across  a  boulder  gasped 
and  wondered  if  his  arm  was  leaving  its  socket,  the  line 
swung  into  slack  water  again.  Still,  Ingleby  had  driven 
against  a  stone  with  a  thud  that  drove  out  most  of  the  little 
breath  left  in  him. 

They  brought  Probyn  ashore  between  them,  and  Sewell, 


196  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"who  kept  his  head,  left  them  a  moment  and  went  straight 
up  the  bank,  where  he  came  upon  Hetty  standing  with 
hands  closed  at  her  sides.  She  could  see  very  little  beyond 
a  group  of  men  bending  over  something  that  lay  between 
them. 

"Go  back  to  the  shanty.  Make  a  big  fire  and  some 
coffee,"  he  said. 

Hetty  did  not  seem  to  understand  him.  "Tomlinson 
held  on  to  him,  but  he  struck  a  stone,"  she  said.  "I 
couldn't  see  any  more,  but — of  course — you  brought  him 
out?    Is  he  hurt?" 

Sewell  looked  astonished.  "Hurt !"  he  said.  "You  must 
know  that  the  man  is  dead." 

Then  comprehension  dawned  upon  him,  as  he  remem- 
bered that  he  had  for  several  anxious  moments  fancied  that 
the  man  who  seized  Trooper  Prob}Tn  would  drive  with  him 
down  the  rapid. 

"I  scarcely  think  Tom  is  any  the  worse — and  Ingleby 
appears  to  have  got  off  with  a  bruise  on  his  head,"  he  said. 

He  saw  the  sudden  relief  in  Hetty's  face,  for  she  had  not 
remembered  the  need  of  reticence  then;  but  she  turned 
away  from  him  silently,  and  he  went  back  to  the  river, 
where  the  group  made  way  for  him.  Sewell,  who  held  only 
an  unremunerative  claim,  was  already  an  influence  in  the 
Green  Kiver  country. 

The  light  was  rapidly  failing,  but  he  could  still  see  the 
faces  of  the  men,  who  turned  to  him  as  though  uncertain 
what  to  do.  Tomlinson  stood  still  among  the  rest,  and  his 
voice  and  attitude  were  both  unmistakably  compassionate. 

"I  hove  him  into  the  creek.  I  'most  wish  I  hadn't  now,7' 
he  said.  "He  was  young  and  had  no  sense,  but  there  was 
good  hard  sand  in  him." 

Sewell  turned,  and  looked  down  on  Trooper  Probyn,  who 
lay  very  still,  a  rigid  shape  in  sodden  uniform,  with  the 
water  running  from  him,  and  his  face  partly  turned  away 
from  them,  which  was  just  as  well. 


TROOPER  PROBYN  COMES  BACK       19*7, 

"Two  of  you  go  for  Captain  Esmond,  boys,"  he  said. 
"It  will  be  some  time  before  you  make  the  outpost,  and  I 
want  the  rest  of  you.  There  is  something  we  have  to  do 
in  the  meanwhile.  The  police  make  mistakes  now  and 
then,  and  it  is,  I  think,  our  business  as  well  as  Captain 
Esmond's." 

He  knelt  down,  and  presently  pointed  to  a  little  hole, 
very  small  and  cleanly  cut,  in  the  soaked  tunic. 

"I  think  you  know  what  made  that,"  he  said.  "One  of 
you  get  down.    I  can't  do  what  is  necessary,  alone." 

Nobody  seemed  very  anxious,  which  was,  perhaps,  not 
astonishing,  and  it  was  not  until  Sewell  looked  up  again 
that  Ingleby,  who  shivered  a  little,  knelt  down.  He  won- 
dered when  he  6aw  that  Sewell's  fingers  were  very  steady 
as  he  opened  the  tunic  and  saturated  vest.  Then  the  latter 
signed  to  the  men  to  draw  a  little  nearer,  and  pointed  to 
what  appeared  to  be  a  folded  pad  of  wet  cotton  held  in 
place  by  a  strip  of  hide.  He  moved  it  a  little  so  that  all 
could  see  it,  and  then  let  the  tunic  fall  again.  Ingleby  was, 
however,  the  only  one  who  noticed  that  there  was  some- 
thing in  Sewell's  hand  that  had  not  been  there  before. 

"There  is  nothing  to  show  whether  Trooper  Probyn  was 
dead  when  he  reached  the  water,  though  I  think  he  was," 
he  said.  "He  was  certainly  shot,  and  it  is  Evident  that  he 
did  not  shoot  himself.  His  uniform  isn't  charred,  you  see. 
Then  you  saw  the  pad.  Police  troopers  do  not  make  their 
shirts  or  patch  their  clothes  with  cotton  flour-bags,  and  a 
man  hit  where  Probyn  was  would  not  be  very  likely  to 
bandage  himself.  The  man  who  shot  him  tried  to  save 
his  life.    Why  should  he  do  that  if  he  meant  to  kill  him?" 

There  was  no  answer,  and  Sewell  stood  up.  "We  don't 
know  what  has  happened,  boys.  Perhaps  we  never  shall; 
but  it  seems  to  me  one  thing  is  certain — it  wasn't  murder." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  concurrence,  and  then 
Sewell  made  a  gesture. 

"It's  getting  dark,  and  we're  most  of  us  very  wet,"  he 


198  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

said.    "One  or  two  of  you  cut  a  few  fir  boughs,  and  we'll 
make  a  litter." 

It  was  done,  and  in  another  few  minutes  a  line  of  wet 
and  silent  men  plodded  behind  their  comrades  who  carried 
Trooper  Probyn  up  the  climbing  trail. 


XX 

ACCESSOEIES 

pSMOND  was  not  at  the  outpost  when  the  messengers 
reached  it,  nor  was  the  corporal  there,  and  it  was 
two  troopers  to  whom  the  miners  delivered  the  dead  lad. 
This  fact,  however,  appeared  to  aiford  Sewell  a  certain 
satisfaction,  and  he  and  Tomlinson  went  hack  with  Ingleby 
through  the  growing  darkness  to  Leger's  shanty.  It  was 
once  more  raining  hard  when  they  reached  it,  and  when 
Hetty  had  set  a  kettle  of  coffee  before  them  they  sat  steam- 
ing in  the  little  log-walled  room  with  the  door  shut.  Each 
of  them  was  aware  that  there  was  a  good  deal  to  be  said, 
and  in  all  probability  little  time  in  which  to  say  it;  but 
the  subject  was  difficult,  and  Hetty  had  cleared  the  table 
when  Sewell  turned  to  Tomlinson. 

"There's  a  plant  in  this  country  whose  leaves  the  Indians 
believe  are  efficacious  in  stopping  blood,"  he  said.  "I 
wonder  if  you  could  tell  me  where  to  find  it?" 

Tomlinson  looked  up  with  evident  astonishment. 

"If  there  is,  I  never  heard  of  it,"  he  answered.  "I've 
no  use  for  worrying  'bout  any  plants  just  now." 

Then  he  glanced  round  at  the  faces  of  the  rest,  and  his 
eyes  rested  a  moment  upon  Hetty.  "I'm  in  a  tight  place, 
but  you  don't  believe  I  did  the  thing?" 

"Of  course  not!"  said  Hetty,  with  a  little  flash  in  her 
eyes.    "Why  don't  you  answer  him,  some  of  you?" 

Ingleby  would  have  spoken,  but  Sewell  held  up  his  hand. 
"I'm  not  sure  you  know  how  tight  the  place  is,  Tomlinson. 
If  you'll  listen  I'll  try  to  show  you." 

199 


200  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

He  spoke  for  two  or  three  minutes,  and  even  Ingleby, 
who  had  long  looked  up  to  him  as  a  man  of  brilliant  ability, 
was  a  trifle  astonished  at  the  acumen  which  marked  every 
point  of  the  tersely  logical  exposition.  It  apparently  left 
no  loophole  for  doubt  as  to  who  had  killed  Trooper  Probyn, 
and  once  or  twice  Leger  moved  uneasily.  There  was,  how- 
ever, a  little  incredulous  smile  in  Hetty's  eyes. 

"Now,"  said  Sewell  incisively,  "have  you  anything  to 
tell  us?" 

Tomlinson  sat  gazing  at  them  stupidly,  with  the  veins 
on  his  bronzed  forehead  swollen,  and  a  dusky  hue  in  his 
face.  Ingleby  was  troubled  as  he  watched  him,  and  Leger 
leaned  forward  in  his  seat  as  though  in  a  state  of  tense 
expectancy,  but  still  the  faint  smile  flickered  in  Hetty's 
eyes.  For  almost  a  minute  they  could  hear  the  wailing  of 
the  pines  and  the  rain  falling  on  the  roof.  Then  Tomlinson 
spoke. 

"I  fired  once — at  a  deer.    Thaf  s  all,"  he  said. 

Ingleby  was  conscious  at  once  of  a  certain  sense  of  shame 
and  an  intense  relief,  for  he  recognized  the  truth  in  the 
miner's  voice,  and  Sewell  had  set  out  with  relentless  ef- 
fectiveness the  view  the  prosecution  might  be  expected  to 
take.     The  latter  laughed  as  he  glanced  at  Hetty. 

"Yon  would  not  have  believed  he  did  it  if  I  had  talked 
for  hours  ?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  said  Hetty  simply. 

Sewell  made  her  a  little  inclination,  and  then  turned  to 
the  rest  with  a  smile. 

"We  have  only  reason  to  guide  us,  and  we  argue 
clumsily,"  he  said.  "Women,  we  are  told,  have  none — in 
their  case  it  apparently  isn't  necessary.  They  were  made 
differently.  Insight,  it  seems,  goes  along  with  the  charity 
that  believes  no  evil." 

It  was  not  evident  that  Hetty  quite  understood  him,  for 
she  sat  looking  at  the  fire  with  hands  crossed  in  her  lap, 
and  Sewell  turned  to  Tomlinson. 


ACCESSORIES  201 

"I  think  the  boys  would  believe  you,  as  we  do,  but  that, 
after  all,  scarcely  goes  very  far.  We  have  Esmond  and  the 
corporal  to  consider,  and  they  are  certainly  not  troubled 
with  instinctive  perceptions  or  any  excess  of  charity.  What 
is  more  to  the  purpose,  they  wouldn't  try  you  here." 

Tomlinson  made  a  little  forceful  gesture.  "Now,  if  I'd 
nobody  else  to  think  of  I'd  stop  right  where  I  am;  but 
there's  an  old  woman  back  there  in  Oregon  who's  had 
trouble  with  the  rest  of  us — 'most  all  she  could  bear — and 
half  of  what  I  took  out  of  the  claim  was  to  go  to  her.  She 
was  just  to  sit  still  and  be  happy,  and  never  work  any  more. 
I  guess  it  would  break  her  heart  if  they  hung  me  here  in 
Canada." 

He  stopped  a  moment,  and  glanced  at  Hetty.  "Still, 
she'd  never  believe  I  did  it.     She's  like  you." 

There  was  very  little  on  the  face  of  the  statement,  but  a 
good  deal  lay  behind  it,  as  Hetty  apparently  realized,  for 
a  flush  spread  across  her  cheek  for  a  moment  and  then 
faded  away. 

Tomlinson  turned  to  the  others  with  a  gesture  that  was 
merely  clumsy  now.  "I'm  going  away,  boys,  and  I  want 
a  partner  to  hold  my  claim  for  me.  If  I  leave  it  without  an 
owner  it  falls  to  the  Crown.  You'd  do  the  square  thing 
by  me  and  a  widow  woman  on  a  half-share,  Mr.  Sewell?" 

It  was  an  offer  most  men  would  have  eagerly  closed  with, 
but  Sewell  shook  his  head. 

"You  must  ask  some  one  else — it  wouldn't  do,"  he  said. 
"I  have  never  taken  a  dollar  I  didn't  earn,  and,  you  see, 
I  would  scarcely  have  tried  to  show  you  that  you  must 
clear  out  right  away  if  I  had  meant  to  make  a  profit  by 
your  doing  so." 

Tomlinson  smiled  a  little.  "Is  there  a  man  along  the 
Green  Eiver  who'd  believe  that  of  you  ?" 

"There  are,"  said  Sewell  drily,  "at  least  a  few  in  other 
places  who  would  be  glad  to  make  the  most  of  the  story. 
In  fact,  if  certain  papers  got  hold  of  it,  I'm  not  sure  I 


202  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

could  live  it  down.  That  wouldn't  matter  greatly,  only, 
you  see,  a  professional  agitator's  character  doesn't  belong 
to  himself  alone.  Still,  you  are  quite  right  on  one  point. 
You  must  have  a  partner — now.  The  agreement  could, 
perhaps,  be  upset  if  it  was  made  after  it  was  known  that 
there  was  a  warrant  out  for  you." 

It  appeared  to  all  of  them  that  Sewell  had  thrown  away 
an  opportunity  for  winning  what  might  amount  to  a  com- 
petence for  life;  but  he  only  smiled  at  Tomlinson,  who 
turned  to  Ingleby. 

"Then  it  has  to  be  you.  A  half-share,  and  you  and 
Leger  can  work  the  thing  between  you.  Neither  of  you 
is  going  to  go  back  on  me  ?" 

Ingleby  almost  gasped,  and  his  face  flushed  a  little.  It 
had  seemed  quite  fitting  that  the  offer  should  be  made  to 
Sewell,  but  there  was  no  apparent  reason  why  it  should  be 
thrust  on  him.  He  also  saw  that  Leger  was  as  little  anxious 
to  profit  by  it  as  he  was  himself. 

"Do  you  suppose  I  would  take  advantage  of  your  neces- 
sity by  making  a  bargain  of  that  kind?"  he  asked. 

Tomlinson  made  a  clumsy  gesture.  "You'd  have  to  let 
your  own  claim  go.  A  man  can't  hold  two  placer  claims, 
and  you're  on  the  lead,"  he  said.  "I've  got  to  have  a 
partner,  and  I  guess  I'm  not  offering  any  more  than  the 
thing's  worth  to  me." 

"He's  right  in  one  respect,"  said  Sewell.  "There  are, 
of  course,  men  in  the  valley  who  would  be  glad  to  take 
the  claim  on  a  smaller  share — but  they're  not  here  now, 
and  Esmond  and  his  troopers  may  turn  up  at  any  minute. 
Besides,  the  prospects  of  your  finding  gold  on  the  claim 
you  hold  are  tolerably  good." 

"I'll  be  gone  in  'bout  five  minutes,"  said  Tomlinson 
quietly.  "If  none  of  you  will  have  the  claim,  it  falls  to 
the  Crown." 

That,  at  least,  was  evident,  and  Leger  nodded  when 
Ingleby  glanced  at  him. 


ACCESSORIES  203 

"A  half -share  is  more  than  you  are  entitled  to,  but  what 
you  can  do  for  Tomlinson  is,  as  he  pointed  out,  worth 
something,  and  you  would  have  to  let  your  own  claim  go," 
he  said. 

"Then  I'll  offer  him  a  thousand  dollars  for  a  third  share, 
on  condition  that  he  takes  a  four  months'  bill  for  them. 
I'll  divide  the  risk  and  profit  with  you,  Leger." 

Leger  smiled.  "It  seems  to  me  Tomlinson  is  taking 
all  the  risk  there  is.  If  you  don't  find  the  money  in  the 
mine  it's  scarcely  likely  that  you  will  meet  the  bill.  Still, 
the  notion's  a  good  one.  The  thing  has  a  more  genuine 
look  when  it's  based  on  value  received." 

The  agreement  was  drawn  up  hastily  on  a  scrap  of  un- 
cleanly paper  with  Sewell's  fountain  pen,  but  he  made  it 
hard  and  fast,  while  Hetty  flitted  busily  between  the  shed 
and  the  shanty.  Then  Sewell  carefully  wiped  and  put 
away  his  pen. 

"Do  you  know  where  you're  going,  Tomlinson?"  he 
asked. 

"No,"  said  the  miner  simply,  "I  hadn't  quite  thought 
of  that." 

"Then  if  you  head  south  for  the  settlements  you  will 
certainly  be  overtaken.  In  fact,  I'm  not  sure  the  corporal 
will  not  have  sent  a  man  along  the  trail  already.  You 
can't  live  in  the  ranges  with  nothing  to  eat,  and  that  only 
leaves  Westerhouse.  They  would  never  expect  you  to  strike 
out  for  there,  but  if  you  will  listen  for  two  minutes  I'll 
tell  you  the  trail." 

He  was  scarcely  so  long,  for  time  was  precious,  but, 
though  few  men  unused  to  the  wilderness  would  have 
understood  or  remembered  most  of  what  he  said,  it  was 
quite  plain  to  Tomlinson,  who  nodded. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I'll  light  out  when  I've  got  the  major 
to  record  the  agreement." 

They  pointed  out  that  this  was  not  exactly  necessary 
and  entailed  a  risk,  but  Tomlinson  was  quietly  resolute. 


204  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"I'm  going  away  to  save  my  claim,  and  I'll  make  quite 
sure,"  he  said.  "It's  an  old  woman  back  in  Oregon  I 
want  the  money  for.  She  hasn't  another  son — they're  all 
gone  but  me.  Well,  I  guess  I'm  ready.  The  troopers 
would  pick  up  my  trail  if  I  took  a  horse  along." 

He  was  scarcely  a  minute  stowing  the  provisions  Hetty 
thrust  upon  him  inside  two  blankets,  which  he  rolled  up 
and  lashed  with  strips  of  deer-hide  to  pack  upon  his  back ; 
and  he  wasted  no  time  in  thanks ;  but  when  Sewell  opened 
the  door  he  walked  gravely  up  to  the  girl,  and  laid  both 
his  big  hands  on  the  one  she  held  out  to  him. 

"I  guess  I'm  not  going  to  worry  you  any  more.  It's 
scarcely  likely  I'll  ever  come  back,"  he  said. 

Hetty's  face  flushed  a  little,  and  there  was  a  slight  tremor 
in  her  voice. 

"It's  all  my  fault,"  she  said. 

Tomlinson  slowly  shook  his  head.  "You  couldn't  do 
anything  that  wasn't  just  right  if  you  tried,  and  you'll 
think  of  me  now  and  then,"  he  said.  "I'm  going  to  re- 
member you  while  I  live." 

He  did  not  wait  for  her  answer,  but  turned  abruptly 
away,  and  Hetty  stood  still  a  moment  with  hot  cheeks 
and  misty  eyes.  Then  she  moved  hastily  forward,  and 
touched  Ingleby's  arm  as  he  went  out  of  the  door. 

"There's  one  of  the  horses  in  the  swamp.  Couldn't 
you  put  the  pack-saddle  on  him  and  make  a  trail  down 
to  the  ford?"  she  said.  "The  troopers  couldn't  help 
seeing  it.    The  ground's  quite  soft." 

Ingleby  laughed.  "Of  course!  It's  an  inspiration, 
Hetty." 

He  was  some  little  time  catching  the  horse,  and  when 
he  reached  the  commissioner's  house  Coulthurst  was  al- 
ready sitting  with  a  book  in  front  of  him.  He  looked  up 
with  a  little  dry  smile  when  Ingleby  came  in. 

"It  is  after  my  usual  office  hours,  but  I  understand  from 
Mr.  Sewell  that  you  are  anxious  I  should  register  you  to- 


ACCESSORIES  205 

night  as  one  of  the  owners  of  the  claim  held  by  Tomlin- 
son?" he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Ingleby.  "There  are  one  or  two  reasons 
that  make  it  advisable." 

He  fancied  there  was  a  very  faint  twinkle  which  might 
have  suggested  comprehension  in  Coulthnrst's  eyes  as  the 
latter  took  up  a  pen. 

"Then  I  think  I  can  make  an  exception  in  your  case, 
especially  as  Tomlinson  seems  equally  anxious,  and  we  will 
get  the  business  done,"  he  said. 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  they  waited 
with  an  impatience  that  was  the  fiercer  because  it  was 
suppressed  while  Coulthurst  turned  over  the  papers  in 
front  of  him  and  took  down  a  book.  There  was  bo  sound 
but  the  splashing  of  the  rain  upon  the  roof  and  the 
snapping  of  the  little  stove,  but  Ingleby  felt  his  nerves 
tingle  as  he  listened.  Coulthurst,  however,  closed  the  book 
at  last  and  handed  him  a  paper. 

"That  should  meet  your  requirements,  and  it  will  be 
quite  in  order  for  you  to  carry  on  the  work  at  the  claim 
should  Tomlinson  be  absent  from  any  cause,"  he  said,  and 
stopping  abruptly  looked  up  as  though  listening.  "I  fancy 
you  were  wise  in  getting  the  agreement  recorded — now. 
Delays,  as  you  are  aware,  are  apt  to  be  especially  danger- 
ous in  case  of  a  placer  claim." 

He  appeared  to  busy  himself  again  with  his  book;  but 
Tomlinson  rose  suddenly,  and  stood  a  moment,  tense  and 
strung  up,  with  head  turned  towards  the  door,  as  a  sound 
that  suggested  men  and  horses  splashing  in  the  mire 
reached  them  faintly  through  the  rain.  Then  he  stepped 
forward  towards  the  veranda  by  which  they  had  entered, 
but  Ingleby  seized  his  arm  and  pointed  towards  the  other 
door  at  the  back  of  the  room.  He  and  Sewell  knew  that  one 
could  reach  the  bush  that  way  through  the  outbuilt  kitchen. 

Coulthurst,  who  could  not  see  the  door  from  where  he 
sat,  looked  up  from  his  book  for  just  a  moment,  and  did 


206  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

not  appear  to  notice  that  Tomlinson  was  no  longer  in  front 
of  him. 

"I  presume  there  is  nothing  more  I  can  do  for  you, 
and  that  is  apparently  Captain  Esmond.  I  think  he  has 
some  business  with  me,"  he  said. 

The  hint  that  he  would  excuse  them  was  plain  enough, 
even  if  it  went  no  further,  and  he  drew  another  bundle 
of  papers  towards  him.  This,  no  doubt,  accounted  for 
the  fact  that  he  failed  to  notice  that  while  Leger  and 
Sewell  moved  towards  the  veranda,  Ingleby  slipped  out 
through  the  other  door.  Sewell,  however,  gasped  with 
relief  when  he  saw  it  swing  silently  to.  Just  then  there 
was  a  tramp  of  feet  outside,  and  in  another  few  moments 
Esmond  sprang  upon  the  veranda,  splashed  with  mire  and 
dripping  with  rain.  Two  wet  troopers  appeared  behind 
him,  carbines  in  hand.  He  stopped  them  with  a  little 
gesture  of  command,  and  then,  striding  past  Sewell  and 
Leger  into  the  room,  appeared  to  have  some  difficulty  in 
restraining  himself  when  he  saw  only  the  major  there. 

"You  will  excuse  me  for  coming  in  unceremoniously, 
sir,  but  I  had  reasons  for  believing  Tomlinson  was  here," 
he  said. 

"He  was  here,"  said  Coulthurst.  "In  fact,  I  don't  quite 
understand  how  it  was  you  didn't  meet  him  going  away." 

"I  certainly  did  not,"  and  Esmond  flashed  a  keen  glance 
at  him.  "If  I  had  done  so,  I  should  naturally  not  have 
troubled  you  about  him." 

Coulthurst  appeared  reflective. 

"He  was  here.  In  fact,  I  have  just  done  some  business 
for  him,"  he  said,  and  stopped;  for  one  of  the  troopers 
cried  out,  and  all  could  hear  a  thud  of  hoofs  and  the 
smashing  of  undergrowth.  Coulthurst  glanced  suggestively 
at  Esmond. 

"That  sounds  very  much  like  somebody  riding  through 
the  bush,"  he  said. 

Esmond  certainly  wasted  no  time  now  in  ceremony.    He 


ACCESSORIES  207 

was  on  the  veranda  in  another  moment  and  shouting  to 
the  trooper,  who  led  up  a  horse.  They  vanished  amidst 
a  rustle  of  trampled  fern,  and  Sewell  laughed  as  he  and 
Leger  turned  back  towards  the  shanty. 

"One  could  fancy  Major  Coulthurst  belonged  to  the 
aristocracy  some  of  our  friends  are  pleased  to  consider 
played  out;  but  there  are  at  least  signs  of  intelligence 
in  him,"  he  said.  "He  is,  by  the  way,  I  am  somewhat 
proud  to  claim,  a  friend  of  mine,  though  that  is,  of  course, 
no  compliment  to  him." 

"Well,"  replied  Leger  drily,  "it  is  seldom  wise  to  general- 
ize too  freely,  which  is  a  mistake  we  make  now  and  then. 
After  all,  it  may  be  a  little  hard  on  the  major  to  blame  him 
for  being  a  gentleman.  He  probably  couldn't  help  it,  you 
see." 

He  had  spoken  lightly  to  hide  his  anxiety;  but  now 
he  stopped  a  moment  and  stood  listening  intently.  A 
faint  sound  of  splashing  and  scrambling  came  up  out  of 
the  hollow  through  the  rain. 

"It's  not  a  trail  most  men  would  care  to  ride  down  in 
daylight,  but  they  seem  to  be  facing  it,"  he  said.  "If 
they  caught  Ingleby  it  would  complicate  the  thing." 

"It's  scarcely  likety,"  said  Sewell.  "He  got  away  two 
or  three  minutes  before  they  did." 

"The  difficulty  is  that  Ingleby  can't  ride  as  you  and 
the  troopers  can." 

Sewell  touched  his  shoulder. 

"Listen,"  he  said,  and  Leger  heard  the  roar  of  the 
river  throb  across  the  dripping  pines.  "When  they  get 
near  the  ford  the  troopers  are  scarcely  likely  to  hear 
anything  else  through  that,  and  they  would  naturally  not 
expect  the  man  they're  after  to  double  back  for  the  canon. 
If  they  push  on  as  they  seem  to  be  doing,  they  should  be  a 
good  way  down  the  trail  by  morning." 

They  both  laughed  at  this,  and  were  sitting  in  the  shanty 


208  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

half  an  hour  later  when  Ingleby  limped  in,  smiling  and 
very  miry,  with  his  jean  jacket  badly  split. 

"Tomlinson  got  away?"  he  asked. 

"Presumably,"  said  Leger.  "We  were  almost  afraid 
you  hadn't.  We  haven't  seen  him.  Where  are  Captain 
,  Esmond  and  his  troopers?" 

Ingleby  laughed.  "They  were  riding  very  recklessly 
over  an  infamous  trail  with  my  horse  in  front  of  them 
when  I  last  saw  them.  I  was  just  then  behind  a  tree.  The 
beast  I  couldn't  stop  simplified  the  thing  by  flinging  me 
off.    I  hadn't  any  stirrups,  perhaps  fortunately." 

"They'd  catch  the  horse  eventually,"  said  Sewell. 

"Of  course!  That  is,  if  they  could  keep  in  the  saddle 
long  enough,  which  is  far  from  certain,  considering  the 
state  of  the  trail.  Then  they  would  naturally  fancy  that 
Tomlinson  had  taken  to  the  range.  In  fact,  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  they  spent  most  of  to-morrow  looking  for  his 
trail.  Still,  there  is  a  question  I  should  like  to  ask.  Why 
did  you  worry  Tomlinson  about  that  plant?" 

Sewell  took  a  little  packet  from  his  pocket  and  opened 
it.    There  were  one  or  two  pulpy  leaves  inside  it. 

"Those  grew  on  the  plant  in  question,  which  Tomlinson 
had  never  heard  of.  The  Indians  use  them  for  stopping 
blood,"  he  said.  "I  took  them  from  the  body  of  Trooper 
Probyn." 

There  was  silence  for  a  little  while,  and  during  it  the 
sound  of  the  river  came  up  to  them  in  deep  pulsations 
through  the  roar  of  the  rain.    Then  Leger  laughed. 

"I'm  afraid  Captain  Esmond  and  his  troopers  will  be 
very  wet,"  he  said.  "He  is  a  capable  officer,  but  such 
simple-minded  persons  as  Hetty  and  Ingleby  are  now  and 
then  a  match  for  the  wise." 

"Haven't  you  left  somebody  out?"  asked  Ingleby. 

"Major  Coulthurst,"  said  Leger,  "is,  of  course,  the 
Gold  Commissioner,  and  could  not  be  expected  to  have  any 
sympathy  with  such  a  man  as  Tomlinson.     It  would,  in 


ACCESSORIES  209 

fact,  be  unpardonable  to  suggest  that  he  could  be  an  ac- 
cessory. Still,  it  is,  perhaps,  not  quite  out  of  the  question 
that  people  outside  the  class  to  which  Hetty  and  Ingleby 
and  I  belong  should  possess  a  few  amiable  qualities." 

"You  and  Ingleby  and  Hetty?"  said  Sewell  reflectively. 

Leger  looked  at  him  with  a  little  smile. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "you  heard  me  quite  correctly.  It's 
not  worth  discussing,  but  I  scarcely  think  one  could  place 
you  in  quite  the  same  category." 


XXI 

rA  DOUBTFUL  EXCHANGE 

TT  was  the  Monday  morning  after  the  flight  of  Tom- 
linson  when  Ingleby  stood  beside  a  pile  of  debris  on 
the  claim  which  was  no  longer  his.  The  rain  had  stopped, 
and  there  was  a  wonderful  freshness  in  the  mountain  air. 
Overhead  the  mists  were  streaming  athwart  the  forest, 
pierced  by  arrows  of  golden  light,  and  the  fragrance  of 
redwood  and  cedar  filled  the  hollow.  It  is  a  scent  that 
brings  sound  rest  to  the  jaded  body  when  night  closes 
down  and  braces  it  as  an  elixir  in  the  coolness  of  the  dawn. 
Ingleby  drank  it  in  with  vague  appreciation.  There  was 
hope  in  it  and  vigour,  and  as  he  stood  with  the  torn  blue 
shirt  falling  apart  from  his  bronzed  neck,  looking  out  on 
the  forest  with  steady  eyes,  there  was  something  in  his 
attitude  which  suggested  the  silent,  hasteless  strength  of  the 
wilderness. 

The  impulsiveness  which  had  afflicted  him  in  England 
had  gone,  and  steadfastness  had  grown  in  its  place.  The 
crude,  half-formed  thoughts  and  theories  which  had  worked 
like  yeast  in  him  had  ceased  their  ebullition,  purging 
themselves,  perhaps,  by  the  froth  of  speech,  and  had  left 
him  with  a  vague  optimism  too  deep  for  articulate  expres- 
sion. Faith  he  had  always  had,  and  now  the  half-compre- 
hending hope  that  looks  beyond  all  formulas  had  also 

2io 


A  DOUBTFUL  EXCHANGE  211 

come.  So  much,  at  least,  the  wilderness  had  done  for 
him.  He  laughed  as  he  turned  towards  Sewell  and  Leger, 
who  sat  on  the  pile  of  thrown-up  gravel  behind  him. 
"I've  been  standing  here  almost  five  minutes,  doing 
nothing — I  don't  know  why,"  he  said.  "One  does  not,  as 
a  rule,  get  rich  that  way  in  this  country." 

Leger  grinned  at  him.  "You  have  just  finished  a  re- 
markably good  breakfast,  for  one  thing,"  he  said.  "Still, 
haven't  you  made  an  admission?  You  always  knew  why 
you  did  everything  in  England." 

Tnglehy  smiled  good-humouredly.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I'm 
seldom  quite  so  sure  now.  Perhaps,  it's  because  I'm 
older — or  it  may  be  the  fault  of  the  country.  Floods  and 
frosts,  slides  of  gravel,  and  blue-grit  boulders  are  apt  to 
upset  the  results  one  feels  reasonably  certain  of  here. 
That  recalls  the  fact  that  I  broke  out  a  quantity  of  promis- 
ing-looking dirt  the  last  time  I  went  down  this  shaft,  and 
didn't  try  the  colour." 

"You  have  sunk  several  shafts  now,  and  you're  evi- 
dently improving,"  said  Sewell.  "The  original  one  wasn't 
sunk  or  driven.    It  was  scratched  out,  anyhow." 

"Three  or  four,  and  I've  made  some  two  hundred  dollars 
out  of  the  lot  of  them.  In  fact,  I've  been  spending  my 
labour  profitlessly  ever  since  I  came  into  the  country.  That 
is,  at  least,  so  far  as  one  can  see." 

Sewell  smiled.  "There's  a  good  deal  in  the  reservation. 
The  whole  country's  full  of  just  such  holes  from  Caribou 
to  Kootenay.  A  few  men  took  gold  out  of  them.  The 
rest  put  something  in." 

"Buried  hopes,"  said  Leger  with  a  grin. 
"Probably,"  answered  Sewell.     "Now  and  then  buried 
men.     Still,  the  ranches  and  the  orchards  came  up  after 
them.    It  was  presumably  good  for  somebody,  although  a 
little  rough  on  the  prospectors  in  question." 

Leger  appeared  reflective.  "I  wonder  if  any  one  could 
grow  plums  and  apples  on  Captain  Esmond.    In  the  Ian- 


212  DELILAH  OF  THE   SNOWS 

guage  of  the  country  it's  about  the  only  use  it  could  have 
for  him.  Well,  I've  smoked  my  pipe  out.  Are  we  going 
to  stay  here  and  maunder  any  longer,  Ingleby  ?" 

"I'm  going  down  the  mine;  though,  as  it  doesn't  belong 
to  me  now,  I  don't  know  why.  Still,  it's  close  on  bottom, 
and  I'd  like  to  try  the  colour  of  the  dirt  I  broke  out  on 
Saturday." 

He  went  down  the  notched  pole,  and  filled  the  bucket 
Sewell  lowered  after  him,  and,  when  the  latter  hove  it 
up,  they  proceeded  to  the  creek,  and  the  others  sat  down 
while  Ingleby  washed  out  its  contents.  Neither  of  them 
showed  any  particular  interest  in  what  he  was  doing. 
They  had  been  some  time  in  the  gold-bearing  region  now, 
and  had  discovered  that  it  is  generally  wise  to  expect  very 
little.  Then  Ingleby  scrambled  up  the  bank  with  a  curious 
look  in  his  face,  and  gravely  held  out  the  pan. 

"Placer  mining  is  a  tolerably  uncertain  thing,  but  here's 
a  result  I  never  anticipated  two  or  three  days  ago,"  he 
said.    "Look  at  this!" 

They  bent  over  the  pan,  and  their  faces  grew  intent  at 
the  sight  of  the  little  grains  of  metal  in  its  bottom.  Then 
Leger  looked  up  with  a  gasp. 

"You've  struck  it  again,"  he  said.  "Apparently  as 
rich  as  ever!" 

Ingleby  stood  still  a  moment,  gazing  straight  in  front 
of  him  with  vacant  eyes,  and  one  hand  closed  a  trifle  at 
his  side. 

"Yes,"  he  said  harshly.  "The  second  time,  and  once 
more  it's  of  no  use  to  me.  When  I  recorded  as  part-owner 
of  Tomlinson's  claim,  this  one  fell  in  to  the  Crown.  You're 
on  the  lead,  Tom,  and  you'll  strike  it,  too;  but  you  can 
get  your  stakes  in,  Sewell.  Sunday's  an  off  day,  or  the 
major  would  have  had  his  notice  out  by  now." 

It  was  a  relief  to  do  anything  just  then,  and  he  cut  and 
drove  in  two  of  the  location  pegs  the  law  required.    Then 


A  DOUBTFUL  EXCHANGE  213 

when  the  last  was  driven  he  turned  to  Sewell  with  grim 
quietness. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "why  don't  you  get  away  and  make 
your  record?  There's  no  reason  you  should  throw  away 
a  fortune,  too." 

Sewell  smiled  a  little.  "For  one  thing,  Major  Coulthurst 
would  certainly  not  be  up  when  I  reached  his  office.  For 
another,  before  I  record  the  claim  there's  something  to 
be  said.  The  law,  you  see,  cannot  be  expected  to  cover 
every  contingency,  and,  if  you  look  at  it  from  one  point  of 
view,  the  claim  is  still  yours.  I'll  buy  the  goodwill  of  you, 
if  you'll  take  my  bill." 

Ingleby  shook  his  head  impatiently.  "I  can't  sell  you 
what  isn't  mine,"  he  answered.  "Anybody  who  thinks  it 
worth  while  can  record  that  claim.  It  belongs  to  the 
Crown.  I  have  my  share  in  Tomlinson's  mine,  and,  in 
one  respect,  I'm  not  sorry  to  see  this  one  come  into  your 
possession.  You,  at  least,  would  not  consider  the  gold 
you  took  out  belonged  to  yourself." 

Sewell  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  in  his  face 
which  somewhat  puzzled  Leger. 

"No?"  he  said.  "It's  not  wise  to  be  too  sure  of  any- 
thing, Ingleby." 

"I  believe  you  told  us  you  had  struck  gold  once  before. 
What  did  you  do  with  it  ?  When  we  met  you  in  Vancouver 
you  hadn't  the  appearance  of  a  man  who  has  a  balance  at 
his  bank." 

A  suggestion  of  darker  colour  crept  into  Sewell's  face. 
"  You  can't  carry  on  a  campaign  of  any  kind  without  funds. 
The  one  I  embarked  upon  not  long  before  you  came  across 
me  was  too  big  for  us.  It  broke  the  exchequer,  and  landed 
me  in  jail." 

"Precisely!"  said  Ingleby.  "And  what  title  have  I 
to  the  money  you  would  hold  in  trust  ?  That  is  the  differ- 
ence between  us.  I'm  not  a  leader — I'm  glad  of  it  iust 
now — and  what  gold  I  find  I  want  for  myself." 


214  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Onee  more  Sewell's  expression  furnished  Leger  with  food 
for  reflection,  though  Ingleby  did  not  appear  to  notice  it. 
It  is  now  and  then  a  trifle  embarrassing  to  have  one's  good 
deeds  proclaimed  to  one's  face,  and  Leger  was  aware  that 
all  Sewell  gained  was  usually  expended  on  the  extension 
of  his  propaganda;  but  that  did  not  seem  to  account  for 
everything,  and  he  fancied  the  man  had  winced  at  his 
comrade's  speech,  as  though  it  had  hurt  him.  Then  Sewell 
made  a  curious  little  gesture. 

"It  is,"  he  said,  "seldom  worth  while  to  decide  what 
other  people  will  do.  They  don't  know  themselves  very 
frequently.  Well,  since  nobody  ever  persuaded  you,  I'll 
get  on  and  record  the  claim." 

He  left  them,  and  neither  Ingleby  nor  Leger  broke  the 
silence  as  they  pushed  on  up  the  valley,  near  the  farther 
end  of  which  Tomlinson's  claim  lay.  Leger  knew  that, 
because  his  claim  adjoined  the  one  his  comrade  had  allowed 
to  fall  to  the  Crown,  he,  too,  would  in  all  probability  find 
gold,  and,  since  now  it  would  all  be  his,  that  fact  alone  was 
sufficient  to  occupy  him.  Still,  he  was  getting  accustomed 
to  the  dramatic  unexpectedness  of  the  results  of  placer 
mining ;  and  he  was  also  sensible  of  a  certain  sympathy  for 
Ingleby,  who  held  no  more  than  a  third-share  in  Tomlin- 
son's mine.  Then  he  recalled  Sewell's  face  and  wondered 
again. 

The  man  had  certainly  appeared  embarrassed,  and  that 
had  its  significance  in  connection  with  what  Ingleby  had 
said.  Sewell  was  certainly  entitled  to  use  what  gold  he 
dug  toilfully  from  the  earth  as  seemed  best  to  him,  and 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  devote  it  to  the  libera- 
tion or  enlightenment  of  those  he  might  regard  oppressed 
unless  he  wished.  That  he  had  done  so  hitherto  was,  it 
seemed  to-  Leger,  plain ;  but  he  fancied  it  was  to  be  differ- 
ent now.  This  led  to  the  question,  what  did  Sewell,  who 
lived  with  Spartan  simplicity,  want  the  gold  for — and  to 
that  there  was  no  answer  until  he  changed  the  what  to 


A  DOUBTFUL  EXCHANGE  215 

whom.  Then  a  reason  suggested  itself,  for  Sewell  of  late 
had  played  chess  with  Major  Coulthurst  frequently,  more 
often,  indeed,  Leger  fancied,  than  Ingleby  knew. 

It  was  a  relief  to  both  of  them  when  they  reached  Tom- 
linson's  mine,  which  was  by  no  means  imposing  at  first 
sight,  consisting,  as  it  did,  of  a  little  gap  in  the  forest 
strewn  with  blackened  branches  and  charred  fir  stumps,  a 
shanty,  a  pile  of  shattered  rock  and  gravel,  and  a  black 
hole  with  a  very  rude  windlass  straddling  it.  It  did  not 
count  at  all  that  it  was  engirdled  by  towering  trees  whose 
sombre  spires,  lifted  one  beyond  the  other  in  climbing 
ranks,  led  the  wondering  vision  upwards  ever  across  the 
face  of  a  tremendous  crag,  where  they  clung  dotted  against 
the  grey  rock  in  the  fissures,  to  the  ethereal  gleam  of 
never-melting  snow.  It  was  sufficient  that  the  clink  of  the 
shovel  and  clatter  of  flung-up  gravel  came  out  of  the 
scented  shadow,  in  token  that  Tomlinson's  claim  was  on  the 
lead,  the  bed  which  had  been  worn  out  and  left  ages  ago  by 
the  Green  Eiver,  or  some  other,  which  had  washed  away 
the  matrix  rock. 

Ingleby  stopped  beside  the  windlass  and  rolled  the  sleeves 
of  his  blue  shirt  to  the  elbow  as  he  looked  into  the  shadow 
beneath  him. 

"Exactly  what  is  down  there  I  don't  know,  and  it  seems 
a  little  astonishing  now  that  I  didn't  ask  Tomlinson  when 
I  bought  the  mine,"  he  said.  "There  should  be  a  thousand 
dollars,  anyway.  Tom,  are  you  going  to  stand  shares  with 
me?" 

Leger  looked  at  the  shaft,  and  for  no  very  apparent 
reason  became  sensible  of  unpleasant  misgivings. 

"No,"  he  said.  "You  hold  only  a  third-share,  anyway, 
and  I'm  not  sure  that  if  you  split  it  up  there  would  be 
enough  for  two.  Still,  I'll  stay  with  you  until  this  even- 
ing. You  should  have  some  notion  how  the  thing  will  work 
out  by  then." 

They  went  down  and  toiled  steadily  for  several  hours  in 


216  DELILAH    OF   THE    SNOWS 

the  short  heading  Tomlinson  had  driven.  Then  Leger 
ascended  and  hove  up  the  bucket  Ingleby  filled,  after  which 
they  transported  the  debris  to  the  rocker  at  the  adjacent 
creek.  Tomlinson's  flume,  which  would  bring  the  water 
to  the  mine,  was  not  finished  yet.  By  the  time  this  was 
done  the  dinner  hour  had  come,  and  Leger  looked  at  In- 
gleby as  he  took  up  his  axe. 

"Would  you  like  to  go  on?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  said  Ingleby,  with  a  little  harsh  laugh.  "There 
was  a  time  when  if  Fd  had  no  food  since  yesterday  I  should 
not  have  stopped,  but  one  gets  over  that.  Besides,  I  almost 
fancy  we  shall  know  quite  soon  enough  what  a  third-share 
in  the  Tomlinson  mine  is  worth." 

Leger  made  a  fire,  and  Sewell  appeared  while  they  ate. 

"I  have  made  the  record.  How  have  you  got  on?"  he 
inquired. 

Ingleby  pointed  to  the  pile  of  soil  and  stones  and  sand. 
"  So  far.  We  are  not  going  any  farther  until  after  dinner. 
It  is  not  very  long  since  I  turned  prospector,  but  I  have 
twice  bottomed  on  gold  and  had  to  let  it  go.  The  last 
occasion  was  only  two  or  three  hours  ago — and  I'm  not 
quite  sure  I've  got  over  it  yet." 

Sewell  nodded  sympathetically.  "There  is  gold  here — 
though  it's  remarkable  that  nobody  seems  to  know  how 
much,"  he  said.  "Tomlinson  apparently  was  not  com- 
municative." 

"That,"  said  Ingleby,  "is,  of  course,  the  question.  If 
there  is  not  a  good  deal  a  third-share  is  scarcely  likely  to 
recompense  me  for  leaving  the  other  claim,  especially  when 
there  is  a  thousand  dollars  to  come  out  of  this  one.  That's 
one  reason  I'm  getting  dinner  before  I  go  any  further.  I 
bought  a  pig  in  a  poke,  you  see,  and  now  I'm  almost  afraid 
to  open  it." 

"I  wonder  why  you  made  the  bargain,  especially  in  view 
of  the  fact  that  Tomlinson  told  you  the  chances  of  striking 
gold  on  your  own  claim  were  good." 


A  DOUBTFUL  EXCHANGE  217 

Ingleby  appeared  a  trifle  confused.  "Well,"  he  said, 
"Tomlinsc-n  had  found  gold  while  I  hadn't  then — and  one 
naturally  prefers  a  certainty.  The  man  was  in  a  difficulty, 
too." 

"Tomlinson,  in  fact,  made  use  of  the  old  woman  back  in 
Oregon  somewhat  artistically." 

Ingleby  flushed  a  trifle.  He  was  one  who,  though  he  had, 
formerly,  at  least,  proclaimed  his  views,  nervously  con- 
cealed his  charities. 

"Tomlinson  never  meant  to  wrong  me  of  a  dollar.  He 
isn't  that  kind  of  man,"  he  said. 

"No,"  said  Sewell,  with  a  little  laugh,  "I  scarcely  think 
he  did.    Well,  are  we  to  help  you  with  the  wash-up  ?" 

They  toiled  for  awhile  knee-deep  in  very  cold  water 
while  the  rocker  clashed  and  rattled,  and  Ingleby,  whose 
face  grew  a  trifle  grim  as  the  time  wore  on,  washed  out 
the  residue  of  its  contents  in  a  little  pan.  Then,  for  the 
others  insisted,  when  there  was  a  good  deal  of  the  pile  left, 
they  went  back  to  the  mine;  and  the  hour  of  supper  had 
crept  round  again  when  Ingleby  came  out  of  the  stream 
carrying  the  result  of  all  that  they  had  done  in  a  little  pan. 
He  stood  still  a  moment  in  the  shadow  of  the  pines,  and 
his  lips  were  set  and  his  eyes  unusually  grave  as  he  looked 
at  Sewell. 

"If  your  new  claim  turns  out  dirt  equal  to  what  we 
found  this  morning  you  will  go  South  rich,"  he  said.  "I 
would  sooner  you  had  it  than  anybody  else — and  I  don't 
think  I  grudge  it  you." 

Sewell  took  the  pan  from  him  and  glanced  into  it.  "I'm 
sorry,"  he  said  simply.  "The  thing  is  done  now,  and  I 
can't  make  you  a  partner  unless  you  let  Tomlinson's  claim 
go,  which  I  presume  you  don't  mean  to  do." 

"That  is,  of  course,  quite  out  of  the  question.  Tom- 
linson went  out  believing  it  was  safe  with  me." 

"Then  we  come  back  to  the  other  suggestion.  I  still 
fancy  you  are  entitled  to  sell  me  what  one  might  consider 


218  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

your  option  on  the  claim.  There  are  men  in  the  valley  who 
would  have  willingly  handed  you  their  bill  for  a  thousand 
dollars  for  the  information  you  supplied  me." 

Ingleby  looked  at  him  steadily,  with  his  head  held  back 
a  little. 

"It  already  belonged  to  the  Crown,"  he  said.  "Have  I 
ever  done  anything  that  would  lead  my  friends  to  believe 
they  could  bestow  alms  on  me  ?" 

Sewell  smiled.  "I  fancy  there  are  one  or  two  of  them 
who  advocate  a  community  of  property !" 

It  occurred  to  Leger  that  it  might  be  advisable  to  change 
the  subject.  "I'm  afraid  we  usually  stop  there,"  he  said, 
with  a  grin.  "It  has  seemed  to  me  lately  that  there  are 
two  difficulties  in  the  way  of  bringing  an  equitable  division 
about,  though  most  people  only  recognize  the  obvious  one, 
which  is,  however,  serious  enough.  I  mean  inducing  the 
people  who  have  anything  worth  having  to  part  with  it." 

"And  the  other?" 

"The  other,"  said  Leger  reflectively,  "would  consist  in 
inducing  the  people  who  have  very  little  to  receive  it.  There 
are  a  few  of  them  .who  wouldn't  be  willing  to  do  so — at 
least,  in  the  Colonies.  They  want  to  reap  only  what  they 
have  sown." 

"It  isn't  quite  clear  that  they  will  be  permitted." 

Leger  smiled  drily,  though  he  looked  hard  at  Sewell. 
"Well,"  he  said,  "I  almost  fancy  one  could  leave  it  to 
them.  It  would  be  an  unfortunate  thing  for  the  men  who 
insisted  on  getting  in  the  way  of  the  sickle." 

Then  he  turned  to  Ingleby,  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der.    "It  might  be  worse,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  answered  Ingleby,  who  laughed  a  little,  though  it 
cost  him  an  effort,  "considerably.  The  man  who  has  what 
is  evidently  a  very  good  living  in  his  hands  really  doesn't 
deserve  very  much  sympathy.  Still,  you  see,  I  twice  threw 
away  what  looked  like  a  fortune.  Any  one  would  find  the 
reflection  apt  to  worrv  him." 


A  DOUBTFUL  EXCHANGE  219 

They  went  away  and  left  him  sitting  on  a  blackened 
cedar  stump  in  the  desolate  clearing.  The  clink  of  the 
shovels  no  longer  rose  from  beyond  the  sombre  trees,  and 
there  was  deep  stillness  in  the  hollow.  The  gaps  in  the 
forest  grew  duskier,  and  a  peak  across  the  valley  flung  a 
cold  blue  shadow  athwart  the  gleaming  snow.  The  dew 
was  settling  heavily;  but  Ingleby  sat  still,  grave  in  face, 
seeing  nothing,  until  he  rose  with  a  little  resolute  shake  of 
his  shoulders  and,  slipping  down  from  the  stump,  took  up 
his  axe. 

He  had  twice  thrown  away  a  fortune,  and  with  it,  for  a 
time,  at  least,  the  prospect  of  realizing  a  very  precious 
hope ;  but  fortunes  are  now  and  then  retrieved  suddenly  in 
that  country;  and,  in  any  case,  a  man  who  would  work 
must  eat. 


XXII 

ALISON'S  SATJLT 

COME  weeks  had  passed  since  Ingleby  took  over  Tom- 
linson's  claim,  when  one  lowering  evening  Grace 
Coulthurst  pulled  np  her  cayuse  pony  in  the  depths  of  the 
Green  Eiver  valley.  Leaden  cloud  had  veiled  the  peaks 
since  early  morning,  and  now  the  pines  were  wailing  dole- 
fully beneath  a  bitter  breeze.  A  little  dust  of  snow,  fine 
and  dry  as  flour,  whirled  about  her,  and  the  trail  was.  hard 
as  adamant  beneath  her  pony's  feet.  The  beast  pricked 
its  ears  and  stamped  impatiently,  for  it  had  been  bred  in 
the  wilderness  and  knew  what  was  coming. 

Grace,  whose  fingers  were  growing  stiff,  relaxed  her  grasp 
on  the  bridle,  and  looked  about  her  observantly,  but  with- 
out uneasiness.  She  was  some  distance  from  home,  and 
daylight  was  dying  out  unusually  early,  while  few  horses 
unaccustomed  to  the  mountains  could  have  scrambled  over 
either  of  the  trails.  There  were  two  of  them,  foot-wide 
tracks  which  climbed  up  and  down  steep  hollows  and 
twisted  round  great  fallen  trees,  and  she  had  stopped  at 
the  forking,  though  there  was,  she  knew,  very  little  to 
choose  between  them. 

The  bush  was  a  little  thinner  just  there,  but  she  could 
see  nothing  beyond  dim  colonnades  of  towering  trunks  that 
were  rapidly  fading  into  the  gloom.  The  cold  was  nipping, 
and  she  shivered  when  the  breeze  dropped  a  moment.  The 
silence  was  startling,  and  she  felt  it  almost  a  relief  when  a 
low  crescendo  murmur  like  the  sound  of  distant  surf  rose 

220 


ALISON'S  SAULT  221 

from  the  pines  as  the  wind  awoke  again.  Then  a  puff  of 
powdery  snow  stung  her  tingling  cheeks,  and  she  shook  the 
bridle  and  turned  the  cayuse  into  the  lower  trail. 

She  had  ridden  to  the  mines  at  the  head  of  the  valley 
early  in  the  afternoon,  while  her  father  walked  by  her 
stirrup,  which,  considering  the  nature  of  the  trail,  he  had 
no  difficulty  in  doing.  Indeed,  he  had  led,  and  now  and 
then  dragged,  the  horse  up  parts  of  it.  There  had,  as  not 
infrequently  happened,  been  a  dispute  concerning  the 
boundaries  of  a  placer  claim,  and  the  commissioner  had 
gone  over  to  adjudicate.  He  was  not  a  brilliant  man,  but 
he  showed  no  one  favour,  and  the  whimsically  expressed 
decisions  which  he  apparently  blundered  upon  gave  gen- 
eral satisfaction  and  are  still  remembered  in  the  Green 
Eiver  valley.  It  was  also  characteristic  of  him  that  he  had 
saved  more  than  one  difficult  situation,  in  which  a  logical 
exposition  of  the  mining  laws  would  probably  have  been 
unavailing,  by  a  little  free  badinage. 

In  the  meanwhile  his  daughter,  whom  he  had  bidden  ride 
home,  realized  without  any  undue  anxiety  that  it  might  be 
advisable  to  reach  there  as  soon  as  she  could.  She  was  at 
home  in  the  saddle,  and  rightly  thought  herself  secure 
from  any  difficulty  that  might  not  be  occasioned  by  the 
weather.  The  free  miner  is  a  somewhat  chivalrous  person, 
which  is  going  far  enough  by  way  of  appreciation,  since 
the  epithet  which  might  suggest  itself  to  those  acquainted 
with  his  characteristics  has  little  meaning  in  the  land  to 
which  he  belongs,  where  men  have  outgrown  the  need  of 
meretricious  titles.  Still,  when  a  thin  white  haze  blotted 
out  the  dim  colonnades  and  obscured  the  firs  beside  the 
trail  she  strove  to  quicken  the  cayuse's  pace  a  trifle.  The 
beast  was  apparently  already  doing  what  it  could,  clam- 
bering up  slopes  of  gravel,  sliding  down  them  amidst  a 
great  clatter  of  stones,  and  turning  and  twisting  amidst 
tangled  undergrowth. 

Now  and  then  a  drooping  branch  whipped  the  girl  as  she 


222  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

went  by  or  shook  the  snow  that  was  gathering  on  it  into 
her  face,  and  the  withered  fern  smote  smears  of  white 
powder  across  her  skirt.  Winter  was  closing  in  earlier 
than  any  one  had  expected,  and  that  night  an  Arctic  cold 
descended  suddenly  upon  the  lonely  valley.  Her  hands 
grew  numb  on  the  bridle,  all  sense  of  feeling  seemed  to  go 
out  of  the  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  at  last  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty she  pulled  up  the  cayuse,  which  appeared  as  anxious 
to  get  home  as  she  was.  They  had  floundered  round  the 
spreading  branches  of  a  great  fallen  tree,  and  now  there 
no  longer  appeared  to  be  a  trail  beneath  them. 

Grace  shivered  all  through  as  she  looked  about  her.  The 
pines  were  roaring  in  the  sliding  haze;  the  air  was  thick 
with  dust,  not  flakes,  of  snow.  Here  and  there  she  could 
dimly  see  a  tree,  but  the  white  powder  obscured  her  sight 
and  stung  her  face  when  she  lifted  it.  She  could  not  re- 
member having  passed  that  fallen  tree  when  riding  out,  nor 
could  she  recall  how  long  it  was  since  she  had  seen  the 
narrow  trail  in  front  of  her.  Where  it  was  now  she  did  not 
know,  but  there  was,  at  least,  the  sound  of  the  river  on  one 
side  of  her,  when  she  could  hear  it  across  the  moaning  of 
the  trees.  In  heading  for  it  she  would  probably  strike  the 
trail  again,  and  once  more  she  spoke  to  the  cayuse  and 
shook  the  bridle.  She  was  becoming  distinctly  anxious 
now. 

Then  a  hazy  object  appeared  suddenly  a  few  yards  in 
front  of  her,  and  stopped  at  her  cry,  while  in  another 
moment  Ingleby  was  standing  by  her  stirrup,  and  her  ap- 
prehensions melted  away.  It  was  significant  that  she  was 
by  no  means  astonished.  She  felt  that  it  was  only  fitting 
that  when  she  wanted  him  he  should  be  there.  The  mere 
sight  of  his  face,  of  which  she  caught  a  faint  glimpse,  was 
reassuring. 

"Do  you  know  that  I  am  very  glad  I  met  you?  Where 
is  the  trail  ?"  she  said. 

Ingleby  did  not  protest  that  it  afforded  him  an  equal 


ALISON'S  SAULT  223 

gratification,  and  if  he  had  done  so  it  would  probably  not 
have  pleased  her.  Grace  was  critical,  and  rather  liked  the 
reticence  which  was,  it  seemed,  in  harmony  with  his  char- 
acter— that  is,  since  he  had,  fortunately,  grown  out  of  the 
evil  habit  of  discussing  social  economics. 

"I  don't  think  it  can  be  far  away.  In  fact,  I  was  just 
trying  to  cut  off  a  bend  of  it,"  he  said,  with  a  little  laugh. 

"It  isn't  exactly  a  pleasant  night  for  a  stroll  through 
the  bush,"  said  Grace  suggestively. 

"No,"  replied  Ingleby,  who  fell  into  the  snare.  "Still, 
you  see,  they  were  expecting  me  at  the  bakery." 

Grace  was  by  no  means  pleased  at  this.  Certain  obser- 
vations Esmond  had  once  let  fall  with  a  purpose  had  not 
been  without  their  effect  on  her,  and  she  remembered  that 
the  girl  at  the  bakery  was,  it  had  to  be  admitted,  pretty. 
It  also  appeared  likely  that  she  was  what  is  now  and  then 
termed  forward.  Grace's  displeasure,  which  she  did  not, 
of  course,  express,  might,  however,  have  been  greater 
had  there  been  any  delay  in  the  man's  answer. 

"Then  if  you  will  show  me  the  trail  I  will  not  keep  you. 
I  am  getting  cold,"  she  said. 

Ingleby  took  the  bridle,  and  he  and  the  cayuse  floun- 
dered through  what  appeared  to  be  a  horrible  maze  of 
fallen  branches  and  tangled  undergrowth.  In  fact,  Grace 
fancied  she  heard  her  skirt  rip  as  they  struggled  in  it. 
Then  the  bush  became  a  little  clearer,  and  they  went  on 
more  briskly,  up  and  down  steep  slopes  and  past  dim  blurs 
of  trees,  while  soil  and  gravel  alike  rang  beneath  the  cay- 
use's  feet.  How  long  this  continued  Grace  did  not  exactly 
know,  nor  had  she  any  notion  as  to  where  they  were.  The 
only  reassuring  thing  was  the  glimpse  she  had  of  Ingleby 
plodding  on  beside  her  horse's  head,  which  was,  however, 
quite  sufficient.  Still,  civility  demanded  something,  and 
at  last  she  bade  him  stop. 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  be  taking  you  away  from  the  bakery," 
she  said. 


224  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Ingleby  laughed.  "I  am,  of  course,  not  going  there 
now." 

That  should  have  been  sufficient,  but  Grace  was  not 
quite  contented.  Compliments  on  her  beauty  seldom 
pleased  her,  but  she  liked  to  feel  the  hold  she  had  upon 
those  she  attracted,  and  was  not  averse  to  having  it  ex- 
plained to  her. 

"No?"  she  said.    "Then  where  are  you  going?" 

Ingleby  appeared  a  trifle  astonished,  as  though  he  con- 
sidered the  question  quite  unnecessary,  which  was  naturally 
gratifying. 

"To  the  Gold  Commissioner's  residence,"  he  said. 

"With  my  permission?"  and  Grace  laughed. 

Ingleby  did  not  look  at  her.  He  was  apparently  staring 
at  the  forest,  which  loomed  through  the  whirling  haze  a 
faint  blur  of  vanishing  trees,  and  he  flung  the  answer  over 
his  shoulder. 

"I  think  I  would  venture  to  go  without  it  to-night,"  he 
said. 

This  was  significant,  but  although  the  snow  was  certainly 
getting  thicker  and  the  cold  struck  through  her  like  an  icy 
knife,  Grace  no  longer  felt  any  apprehension.  She  was  not 
unaccustomed  to  physical  discomfort  and  peril,  and  there 
could  be,  she  felt,  no  doubt  of  her  reaching  home  safely 
while  Ingleby  plodded  at  the  horse's  head.  He  was  young, 
and  by  no  means  assertive,  but  there  were  men  in  the  Green 
Eiver  valley  who  shared  her  confidence  in  him.  Still,  the 
rough  flounder  through  the  brushwood  was  becoming  irk- 
some, and  where  the  trees  were  smaller  she  could  not  avoid 
all  the  drooping  branches  by  swaying  in  the  saddle,  and  at 
last  she  bade  him  pull  up  again. 

"We  are  a  long  while  striking  the  trail,"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Ingleby,  without  turning  towards  her. 

Grace  leaned  down  and  touched  him.  "Why  haven't 
we  found  it?    I  mean  you  to  tell  me." 


ALISON'S  SAULT  225 

The  man  made  a  little  gesture,  for  he  recognized  that 
tone. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said  quietly.  "We  have  struck  it,  and 
didn't  recognize  it.  In  fact,  we  must  have  gone  straight 
across  and  left  it  behind  us." 

Grace  sat  still  and  looked  at  him.  She  could  not  see  his 
face ;  he  was  no  more  than  a  blurred  shadowy  shape  in  the 
haze  of  sliding  snow.  Still,  she  could  make  out  that  he 
was  standing  very  straight  with  slightly  tilted  head,  and 
she  knew  the  intentness  of  gaze  and  look  of  tenacity  in  the 
hidden  face  which  usually  accompanied  that  attitude.  His 
answer  also  pleased  her.  There  was  no  attempt  at  con- 
cealing unpleasant  probabilities,  for  the  man  spoke  frankly 
as  to  one  whom  he  regarded  as  his  equal  in  courage  and 
everything  except,  perhaps,  bodily  strength.  In  the  mean- 
while, however,  they  were  alone  in  the  wilderness,  cut  off 
from  all  hope  of  succour  by  anything  but  their  own  re- 
sources in  a  haze  of  snow,  with  their  limbs  slowly  stiffening 
under  the  Arctic  cold. 

"Then  what  are  we  to  do  ?"  she  asked. 

"Push  on,"  said  Ingleby.  "The  river  must  be  close  at 
hand  to  the  right  of  us.  That  is  why  I'm  keeping  to  the 
higher  ground.  I  don't  want  to  strike  until  we  have  passed 
Alisons  Sault." 

He  wrenched  at  the  bridle;  but  Grace  had  faint  mis- 
givings as  they  floundered  on  again.  Sault  in  that  country 
implies  a  fall  or  rapid,  and  the  one  in  question  was  called 
after  a  prospector  who  had  drowned  himself  and  a  comrade 
there.  It  swept  down  to  the  mouth  of  the  canon  in  a  wild 
white  rush,  studded  with  great  boulders  that  bruised  and 
scarred  the  pines  the  flood  hurled  down  on  them ;  and  what 
made  it  more  perilous  in  the  dark  was  the  fact  that  the 
trail  dipped  to  the  brink  of  the  smaller  rapids  at  the  tail 
of  it.  Indeed,  it  was  often  necessary  to  splash  knee-deep 
through  the  slack  of  them  along  the  shore ;  and  Alison  had 
come  by  his  death  through  mistaking  the  big  sault  for  one 


226  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

of  the  smaller  ones  on  a  black  night.  The  man  who  fished 
him  out  of  an  eddy  a  week  later  said  that  Alison  looked 
very  much  as  though  he  had  been  put  through  a  threshing 
mill. 

It  was,  Grace  fancied,  half  an  hour  later  when  they  floun- 
dered down  a  declivity,  with  the  roar  of  the  river  growing 
louder  in  their  ears.  It  was  with  difficulty  she  kept  in  the 
saddle,  and  she  was  vaguely  conscious  that  her  skirt  was 
rent  to  tatters,  though  she  was  too  stiff  and  cold  to  trouble 
about  that  now.  Even  in  the  thicker  timber  the  snow  was 
almost  bewildering,  and  it  was  only  now  and  then  she 
could  see  Ingleby  scrambling  and  floundering  in  front  of 
her.  He  was  evidently  making  his  course  by  sound,  for 
there  was  nothing  that  she  could  discern  to  guide  him. 

Then  somehow  they  slid  down  a  bank,  and  there  was  a 
splash  that  told  her  the  cayuse  was  in  the  water.  Ingleby 
seemed  to  be  struggling  with  the  beast,  but  she  could  not 
make  out  why  he  did  so.  Nor  did  it  seem  of  any  moment. 
She  was  dazed  and  bewildered  and  intolerably  cold.  There 
was  a  further  splashing,  a  plunge,  and  a  flounder;  the 
water  rose  to  her  stirrup,  and  for  a  few  horrible  moments 
she  felt  that  the  beast  was  going  downstream  with  her. 
It  was  evident  by  the  depth  that  they  were  in  the  Sault. 
She  fancied  she  cried  out  in  her  terror  and  that  Ingleby 
shouted  in  answer,  but  the  roar  of  the  river  drowned  the 
sound.  In  another  few  seconds,  however,  the  horse  appa- 
rently struck  rock  with  its  hoofs  again;  then  the  water 
that  had  lapped  about  her  skirt  seemed  to  fall  away,  and  in 
a  frantic  scrambling  Ingleby  dragged  the  pony  up  the  bank. 
The  cayuse  stood  still,  trembling,  at  the  top  of  it,  and  In- 
gleby was  apparently  quivering,  too,  for  his  voice  shook  a 
little  as  he  answered  her  half-coherent  questions. 

"Alison's  Sault!"  he  said  hoarsely.  "It  should  have 
been  behind  us.  I  never  recognized  it  until  the  river  swept 
my  feet  from  under  me.  I  suppose  I  was  dazed  by  the 
snow." 


ALISON'S  SAULT  22? 

Grace  sat  silent  a  moment.  She  knew  that  they  had 
looked  death  in  the  face,  for  nothing  made  of  flesh  and 
blood  could  carry  the  life  in  it  through  the  mad  turmoil  of 
rock  and  flood  in  Alison's  Sault.  The  roar  of  the  river  was 
very  impressive  now,  and  the  man's  voice  had  shown  that 
he  was  shaken  by  some  strong  emotion  which  was  not  per- 
sonal fear. .  Then,  as  the  crash  of  a  great  pine  against  a 
stream-swept  stone  rang  through  the  deep  reverberations, 
she  bent  down  and  touched  his  shoulder.  The  contact  was 
momentary,  but  she  felt  a  little  quiver  run  through  him. 

"Nobody  could  have  recognized  it  on  such  a  night.  It 
was  not  your  fault,"  she  said. 

"I  can't  forgive  myself.  The  cayuse  got  out  of  hand — 
I  couldn't  hold  him.  He  was  heading  out  into  the  stream. 
If  that  ledge  hadn't  been  there " 

He  stopped  with  a  gasp,  and  Grace  was  glad  to  recognize 
that  of  the  two  she  was  the  one  who  showed  less  concern. 
She  guessed  what  he  was  feeling,  but  could  not  restrain  the 
desire  to  make  certain. 

"Well,"  she  said.  "If  the  shelf  of  rock  had  not  been 
there?" 

Ingleby  turned  and  seemed  to  be  listening  to  the  river. 
Perhaps  he  did  it  unconsciousl}r,  but  the  hoarse  roar  of 
the  flood  among  the  boulders  was  sufficient  answer. 

"You  were  not  cumbered  with  a  horse  that  had  lost  its 
head.    There  is  a  little  slack  close  to  the  bank,"  she  said. 

The  man  turned  and  seemed  by  his  attitude  to  be  gazing 
at  her  in  astonishment. 

"You  can't  suppose  I  should  have  scrambled  out  alone?" 
he  said. 

There  was  a  suggestion  of  anger  in  his  voice  which  Grace 
recognized  as  wholly  genuine.  She  had  met  and  formed 
her  own  opinion  of  the  protestations  of  not  a  few  young 
men  in  her  time,  and  it  was  evident  to  her  that,  while 
Ingleby's  attitude  became  him,  he  did  not  recognize  the 
fact. 


228  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"You  felt  yourself  responsible  then?"  she  suggested. 

"No,"  said  the  man  slowly.  "I  certainly  didn't;  though 
it's  clear  that  I  was.  I  don't  think  I  felt  anything  except 
that — you — were  in  the  rapid." 

This  was  also  evidently  perfectly  sincere,  but  he  seemed 
to  pull  himself  up  abruptly,  and  laughed  in  a  fashion  that 
suggested  embarrassment. 

"You  will  not  remember  that  little  speech.  It's  not 
the  kind  of  thing  one  is  pleased  with  afterwards;  but,  in 
the  circumstances,  it  was,  perhaps,  excusable,"  he  said. 

He  gave  her  no  opportunity  for  answering,  but  struck 
the  cayuse,  and  they  went  on  again.  Still,  Grace  had 
noticed  the  tremor  in  his  voice,  and  knew  that  he  had 
meant  exactly  what  he  said.    Nor  was  she  displeased  at  it. 

Then  the  thoughts  and  fancies  which  the  moment  of 
peril  had  galvanized  into  activity  grew  blurred  again,  and 
she  was  only  sensible  of  the  physical  pain  and  weariness 
and  an  intolerable  cold,  as  the  man  and  beast  stumbled 
on.  Twice  again  they  dipped  to  the  river,  which,  however, 
scarcely  rose  to  his  knee,  and  after  that  there  was  only  a 
sliding  past  of  snow-dimmed  trees,  while  by  a  grim  effort 
she  kept  herself  in  the  saddle.  Then  at  last  a  light  blinked 
in  front  of  her  through  the  filmy  haze,  the  cayuse  stopped, 
and  Ingleby,  it  seemed,  lifted  her  down.  At  least,  she  felt 
his  arm  about  her,  and  then  found  herself  standing  beside 
him  before  the  commissioner's  dwelling  without  any  very 
clear  notion  of  how  she  came  there.  It  was  only  afterwards 
she  remembered,  with  tingling  cheeks,  how  she  had  seen  a 
miner  walk  away  with  a  one-hundred-and-forty-pound  bag 
of  flour.  Then  they  went  into  a  lighted  room  together,  and 
stood  still,  gasping,  a  moment,  with  a  distressful  dizziness 
creeping  over  both  of  them.  Ingleby  apparently  roused 
himself  with  an  effort,  and  threw  the  door  open. 

"Keep  away  from  the  stove,"  he  said,  a  trifle  faintly. 
"There's  a  chair  yonder." 

He  stood  in  the  entrance,  white  with  snow,  looking  at 


ALISON'S  SAULT  229 

her.  The  blood  was  in  her  head  now,  and  a  most  un- 
pleasant tingling  ran  through  her  half-frozen  limbs,  but 
Ingleby  was  a  trifle  grey  in  face. 

"You  can  shut  the  door  in  another  minute  or  two.  I 
may  come  back  to-morrow  to  make  sure  you  are  none  the 
worse?"  he  asked. 

Grace  looked  at  him  with  a  smile.  "You  can't  go  away 
now." 

Ingleby  turned  and  glanced  at  the  whirling  haze  that 
swept  athwart  the  light  in  the  veranda. 

"I'm  afraid  I  must,"  he  said.  "It  would  be  difficult 
to  get  off  the  trail  as  far  as  the  bakery,  and  there  is  ap- 
parently nothing  I  can  do  for  you  here.  Somebody  lighted 
the  fire?" 

"One  of  the  police  troopers,"  said  Grace.  "That  doesn't 
matter.  It  is  snowing  harder  than  ever.  You  can't  go 
away." 

She  had  brushed  aside  the  dictates  of  conventionality, 
and  the  blood  was  in  her  face  and  a  curious  sparkle  in  her 
eyes.  They  had  been  close  to  death  together  a  little  while 
ago,  and  it  was  a  long  way  to  the  bakery.  Still,  it  was 
not  this  fact  alone  that  impelled  her  to  bid  him  stay. 

"I'm  afraid  I  must,"  he  said  slowly,  as  with  an  effort. 
"You  see,  there  is  something  I  have  to  talk  over  with 
Leger.  He  expects  me.  Besides,  it  would  be  advisable  to 
send  back  any  of  the  boys  who  may  be  there  to  see  what  has 
become  of  the  major." 

Then  he  turned  abruptly,  and  Grace,  who  had  scarcely 
remembered  the  major,  laughed  curiously  when  he  went 
out  of  the  door.  She  knew  now,  at  least,  exactly  what  she 
felt  for  Ingleby,  and  had  he  stayed  and  declared  boldly 
what  his  wishes  were,  it  is  probable  that  Coulthurst  would 
have  been  astonished  when  he  came  home.  Ingleby,  how- 
ever, had  gone  away,  and  the  girl  was  left  standing, 
flushed  in  face,  with  the  melting  snow  dripping  from  her, 


230  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

beside  the  stove,  which  she  remembered  with  some  little 
satisfaction  was  precisely  what  he  had  told  her  not  to  do. 
Then  with  a  little  disdainful  gesture  she  swept  into  the 
adjoining  room. 


XXIII 

INGLEBY  LOSES  HIS  HEAD 

A  KEEN  frost  had  followed  the  snow,  hut  there  was 
warmth  and  a  brightness  in  the  little  inner  room  of 
the  Gold  Commissioner's  house.  Its  log  walls  and  double 
casements  kept  out  the  stinging  cold,  the  stove  snapped 
and  crackled,  and  a  big  lamp  diffused  a  cheerful  light. 
Ingleby,  who  had  just  come  in,  sat  with  his  back  to  the 
logs,  with  Coulthurst  and  Grace  opposite  him.  Grace  was 
in  the  shadow,  but  the  light  shone  full  upon  the  major's 
weather-darkened  face. 

"Grace,"  he  said,  "is,  as  you  can  see,  none  the  worse, 
but  it  was  a  fortunate  thing  you  turned  up  when  you  did. 
Very  much  obliged  to  you  for  taking  such  good  care  of 
her." 

It  was  evident  to  Ingleby  that  Coulthurst  did  not  know 
what  had  nearly  happened  at  Alison's  Sault.  He  had, 
in  fact,  already  had  reasons  for  surmising  that  Miss  Coul- 
thurst did  not  think  it  advisable  to  tell  her  father  every- 
thing. 

"I'm  not  sure  it  wouldn't  have  been  better  if  I  had  not 
met  Miss  Coulthurst,  sir,"  he  said.  "In  that  case  she 
would  probably  have  gone  back,  and  waited  with  you  until 
daylight,  which  would  have  saved  you  both  a  good  deal  of 
anxiety.  Of  course,  when  we  made  up  our  minds  to  push 
on,  I  had  no  idea  the  snow  would  be  so  bad." 

"It's  questionable  whether  she  could  have  found  the 
way.     I  could  see  nothing  whatever,  and  scarcely  fancy 

231 


232  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

I  would  have  got  here  if  two  of  the  older  prospectors 
hadn't  come  with  me.  In  fact,  I  scarcely  remember  a 
worse  night  anywhere,  and  one  result  of  it  is  an  unpleasant 
twinge  in  the  shoulder.  I  never  used  to  get  anything  of 
that  kind.    I  suppose  I'm  getting  old." 

It  occurred  to  Ingleby  that  Coulthurst  was  certainly 
looking  older  than  he  had  done  in  England.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  grey  in  his  hair,  his  cheeks  were  hollower, 
and  there  were  deepening  lines  about  his  eyes.  Ingleby 
felt  sorry  for  the  man,  who  had  served  his  nation  for  so 
small  a  reward,  that  after  a  life  of  hardship  he  must  bear 
the  burden  still,  and  yet  the  fact  was  in  one  respect  en- 
couraging. Since  Coulthurst's  means  were  scanty,  there 
was  less  probability  of  his  objecting  too  strenuously  to  the 
successful  miner  who  aspired  to  his  daughter's  hand ;  and, 
though  not  so  rich  as  the  one  Ingleby  had  thrown  away, 
Tomlinson's  claim  was  yielding  well.  He,  however,  said 
nothing,  and  Coulthurst  went  on  again. 

"A  devil  of  a  night!  It  would  be  hard  on  any  one  in 
the  ranges.    I  wonder  where  Tomlinson  could  have  gone?" 

"One  would  naturally  expect  him  to  head  for  the  settle- 
ments," said  Ingleby  indifferently. 

"He  left  no  trail  behind  him  if  he  did.  At  least,  Es- 
mond's troopers  couldn't  find  any.  There  was,  however,  a 
good  deal  it  is  difficult  to  understand  about  the  affair.  One 
point  that  would  strike  anybody  is  how  Tomlinson  got 
away  from  here  without  being  seen  by  Esmond,  who  turned 
up  almost  as  he  must  have  gone  off  the  veranda." 

"It  really  is  a  trifle  hard  to  understand,  sir." 

They  looked  at  each  other  steadily  for  a  moment  or  two, 
and  then  Ingleby  could  have  fancied  that  there  was  a 
twinkle  in  Coulthurst's  eyes. 

"Perhaps  it  was  as  well  he  got  away  after  all,"  he  said. 
"Appearances  were  against  him,  and  it  might  have  gone 
hard  with  him;  but  I  can't  quite  bring  myself  to  believe 
that  Tomlinson  did  the  thing." 


INGLEBY  LOSES  HIS  HEAD  23S 

Then  Grace,  who  laughed  softly,  broke  in.  "Of  course," 
she  said,  "you  tried  very  hard." 

A  moment  later  there  was  a  tramp  of  feet  outside,  and 
the  major,  who  passed  into  the  outer  room,  came  back  in 
a  minute  or  two.    He  smiled  at  Ingleby  somewhat  drily. 

"It  isn't  news  of  Tomlinson,"  he  said.  "Noel  has 
brought  the  Frenchman  over.  They've  been  burrowing 
into  each  other's  claims,  and  if  I  can't  straighten  the  thing 
out  they'll  probably  settle  their  differences  in  their  own 
way  with  the  shovel.  I  shall  probably  be  half  an  hour  over 
it,  but  don't  go." 

He  went  out,  and  left  Ingleby  with  Grace.  She  looked 
none  the  worse  for  the  journey  she  had  made  the  previous 
night,  and  was  dressed  with  unusual  simplicity.  Ingleby 
did  not  know  what  the  fabric  was,  or  whether  the  colour 
was  blue  or  grey,  nor  did  it  occur  to  him  that  its  severe 
simplicity  was  the  result  of  skill;  but  he  noticed  that  it 
enhanced  the  girl's  beauty  and  added  a  suggestion  of  state- 
liness  to  her  figure,  of  which  Miss  Coulthurst  was  probably 
quite  aware.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  little  smile 
when  a  murmur  of  excited  voices  rose  from  the  adjoining 
room. 

"They  will,  of  course,  both  be  disgusted  with  his  de- 
cision, whatever  it  is,"  she  said.  "A  Gold  Commissioner 
has  really  a  good  deal  to  put  up  with." 

"Major  Coulthurst's  position  is  naturally  a  responsible 
one,"  said  Ingleby. 

Grace  laughed.  "With  a  very  disproportionate  emolu- 
ment— which  is  a  point  one  has  to  consider  after  all.  I'm 
not  sure  it  wouldn't  have  been  better  if  he  had  been  a  pros- 
pector." 

Ingleby's  pulse  throbbed  a  trifle  faster.  He  had  no 
great  knowledge  of  the  gentler  sex ;  but  he  was  not  a  fool, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  girl  had  not  spoken  altogether 
without  a  purpose. 

"I  don't  think  you  really  believe  that,"  he  said. 


234  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Perhaps  I  don't,"  and  Grace  appeared  to  reflect.  "At 
least,  I  suppose  I  shouldn't  have  done  so  once,  but,  of 
course,  a  prospector  who  has  done  sufficiently  well  for  him- 
self can  take  any  place  that  pleases  him  in  Canada." 

"Still,  you  don't  think  that  right." 

"It  would  naturally  depend  a  good  deal  upon  the  pros- 
pector." 

Ingleby  sat  still,  almost  too  still,  in  fact,  for  a  moment 
or  two;  but  he  could  not  hide  the  little  gleam  in  his  eyes. 
He  had,  it  is  true,  democratic  views,  that  is,  so  far  as 
everybody  but  Grace  Coulthurst  was  concerned ;  but  he  was 
quite  willing  to  admit  that  she  was  a  being  of  a  very  differ- 
ent and  much  higher  order  than  his  own.  That  added  to 
the  attraction  she  had  for  him;  and  now  she  had  sug- 
gested that  they  were,  after  all,  more  or  less  on  the  same 
level.  It  was  almost  disconcerting.  He  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  it;  but  while  he  pondered  over  it  she 
flashed  a  quick  glance  at  him. 

"I  wonder  if  you  know  how  Tomlinson  got  away?"  she 
asked. 

It  was  apparently  an  astonishingly  abrupt  change  of  sub- 
ject, but  when  Ingleby,  who  had  grown  wiser  in  the  mean- 
while, afterwards  recalled  that  night,  he  was  less  sure  that 
it  might  not  have  been,  after  all,  part  of  an  instinctive 
continuity  of  policy.  He  had  discovered  by  then  that  even 
very  charming  and  ingenuous  women  not  infrequently  have 
a  policy. 

"I  don't  mind  admitting  that  I  do — to  you,"  he  said. 

Grace  was  pleased  and  showed  it.  It  is  gratifying  to 
feel  that  anybody  has  complete  confidence  in  one,  and  the 
possession  of  a  common  secret  of  some  importance  is  not 
infrequently  a  bond  between  the  two  who  share  it.  Ingleby 
realized  this  and  felt  with  a  curious  gratification  that  the 
girl  recognized  it  as  clearly  as  he  did.  Still,  she  had  said 
nothing  that  could  lead  him  to  believe  so. 

"Then  you  no  doubt  know  where  he  went?"  she  asked. 


INGLEBY  LOSES  HIS  HEAD  235 

"I  naturally  know  that,  too." 

Grace  smiled.  "That  means  you  helped  him  to  get  away. 
Are  you  wise  in  admitting  that  you  were  an  accessory? 
Captain  Esmond  is  a  friend  of  ours." 

Ingleby  made  her  a  little  whimsical  inclination,  though 
there  was  a  look  in  his  eyes  which  was  not  quite  in  keeping 
with  it. 

"I  am,"  he  said,  "quite  safe  in  your  hands." 

It  was  a  fortunate  answer,  and  worth  the  more  because 
he  was  not  usually  a  very  tactful  person,  as  the  girl  was 
aware.  She  was  afflicted  by  a  craving  for  influence,  and 
it  was  not  the  adulation  of  men  she  wanted,  but  an  insight 
into  their  thoughts  and  purposes,  and  the  privilege  of 
controlling  them.  Thus  Ingleby,  who  did  not  know  it, 
could  not  have  done  more  wisely  than  he  did  in  admitting 
that  he  had  an  unquestioning  confidence  in  her.  He  was, 
as  she  had  discovered  some  time  ago,  in  spite  of  his  sim- 
plicity, a  man  capable  of  bold  conceptions  and  resolute 
execution,  the  type  of  man,  in  fact,  that  usually  came  to 
the  front  in  Western  Canada.  She  had  the  intelligence 
to  realize  and  weigh  all  this,  and  yet  there  was  a  strain  of 
passion  in  her  which  he  had  awakened. 

"I  almost  think  you  are,"  she  said.  "How  is  the  new 
claim  progressing?" 

"Seasonably  well.  In  fact,  although  Sewell  is  appar- 
ently getting  rich  on  the  one  I  threw  away,  I  can't  com- 
plain. What  he  makes  will,  at  least,  be  spent  on  what 
he  thinks  is  doing  good,  while  I  want  mine  for  my  own  sel- 
fish purposes." 

"They  are  necessarily  selfish?" 

Ingleby  laughed,  though  the  little  glow  crept  into  his 
eyes  again.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  suppose  so.  You  see,  a 
third-share  in  Tomlinson's  claim  is  not  of  itself  of  much 
value  to  me.  It  only  provides  the  money  to  make  a  start 
with." 


236  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Grace  nodded  comprehendingly.  He  was  crude  in  his 
mode  of  expression,  but  she  understood  him. 

"That  implies  a  going  on?"  she  asked. 

"It  does,"  and  Ingleby  laughed.  "There  is  room,  I 
think,  in  this  Province  for  men  who  will  take  big  risks, 
and  boldly  stake  what  they  have  on  the  advancement  of 
its  prosperity.  I'm  not  sure  there  is  any  reason  I  shouldn't 
be  one  of  them." 

"And  gather  in  the  money?  More  than  you  are  entitled 
to?    Haven't  you  been  changing  your  opinions?" 

Ingleby  made  a  little  whimsical  gesture,  which  alone 
sufficed  to  show  that  he  had,  as  the  girl  expressed  it  to 
herself,  expanded. 

"I  suppose  I  have — that  is,  I  have  modified  them.  One 
has  to  now  and  then,"  he  said.  "Still,  you  see,  the  men 
I  mean  don't  grind  money  out  of  others.  They  create 
it.  They  take  hold  of  the  wilderness,  bridge  the  rivers, 
drive  the  roads  through  it,  and  the  ranches  and  the  or- 
chards follow.  Every  man  who  makes  a  new  home  in  the 
waste  owes  a  little  to  them." 

"Still,  all  that  is  not  done  easily.  One  must  have  the 
faith — and,  as  you  suggest,  the  money  with  which  to  make 
the  start.    Even  then  the  ladder  is  hard  to  climb." 

Ingleby  involuntarily  glanced  down  at  his  hands,  and 
the  girl  noticed  the  scars  on  them,  which,  however,  did  not 
repel  her.  She  also  noticed  the  spareness  of  his  frame,  the 
curious  transparency  of  his  darkened  skin,  and  the  bright- 
ness of  his  eyes,  all  significant  of  an  intensity  of  bodily 
effort.  The  man  had  been  purged  of  grossness,  moral  and 
physical,  by  toil  in  icy  water  and  scorching  sun,  and  the 
light  that  shone  out  through  his  eyes  was  the  brighter  for 
the  hardships  he  had  undergone.  He  had  gained  more  than 
vigour  while  he  swung  the  shovel  and  gripped  -the  drill 
with  hands  that  bled  from  the  blundering  hammer  stroke, 
after  other  men's  work  was  done.  It  is  possible  that  he 
had  also  gained  more  than  tenacity  of  will. 


INGLEBY  LOSES  HIS  HEAD  237 

"Still,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  think  I  shall  manage  it." 

Grace  felt  that  this  was  likely.  She  realized  the  purpose 
which  animated  him,  and  there  suddenly  came  upon  her  a 
desire  that  he  should  tell  it  to  her.  She  knew  that  he  would 
do  so  when  he  felt  the  time  was  ripe;  but  she  wished  to 
hear  it  now,  or,  at  least,  to  see  how  far  his  reticence  would 
carry  him.  She  leaned  forward  a  little  and  looked  him 
steadily  in  the  eyes. 

"It  will  be  a  struggle,"  she  said.    "Is  it  worth  while?" 

Ingleby  stirred  uneasily  beneath  her  gaze,  for  it  seemed 
to  him  that  she  had  brushed  aside  every  distinction  there 
might  be  between  them.  He  did  not  know  how  she  had 
conveyed  this  impression,  but  he  felt  it.  She  was  also 
very  close  to  him.  As  she  moved,  the  hem  of  her  skirt 
had  touched  him,  and  he  felt  the  blood  tingle  in  his  veins. 

"It  would  be  worth  dying  for,"  he  said. 

Grace  laughed  in  a  curious  fashion.  "The  money,  and 
the  envy  of  less  fortunate  men?" 

Ingleby  stood  up  suddenly,  though  he  scarcely  knew 
why  he  did  so,  or  how  it  came  about  that  he  yielded  with 
scarcely  a  struggle  now  to  the  impulse  that  swept  him 
away.  It  is,  however,  possible  that  Grace  Coulthurst,  who 
had  only  looked  at  him,  understood  the  reason. 

"  Success  would  be  worth  nothing  without  another  thing," 
he  said.  "Like  what  I  have  already,  the  money  wouldn't 
be  mine,  you  see.  I  am  not  poor  now — but  I  should  never 
have  held  on  here  by  any  strength  of  purpose  that  was  in 
me  alone.     I  borrowed  it  from  another  person." 

He  stopped  abruptly,  half-afraid,  wondering  what  had 
happened  to  him  that  the  truth  should  be  wrung  from  him 
in  this  fashion.  Then  he  saw  the  clear  rose  colour  creep 
into  the  girl's  cheeks  and  the  sudden  softening  of  her 
eyes,  and  his  courage  came  back  to  him.  He  had  ventured 
too  far  to  be  silent  now. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "there  is  somebody  I'  owe  everything 
to — and  it's  you." 


238  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Grace  no  longer  looked  at  him,  but  sat  still  now  with 
hands  clasped  on  her  knees,  and  Ingleby  felt  the  silence 
becoming  intolerable.  There  was  still  a  murmur  of  voices 
in  the  adjoining  room,  and  he  could  hear  the  wind  outside 
moaning  among  the  pines. 

"I  suppose  I  have  offended  past  forgiveness.  I  did  not 
mean  to  tell  you  this  to-night,"  he  said. 

Grace  looked  up  for  a  moment.  "Oh,"  she  said  softly, 
"I  think  I  knew — and  you  see  I  am  not  blaming  you." 

Ingleby  quivered  visibly,  and  his  face  grew  hot;  but 
while  the  desire  to  kneel  beside  her  and  seize  the  clasped 
hands  was  almost  irresistible,  he  stood  still,  looking  gravely 
down  upon  her,  which  was,  perhaps,  not  wise  of  him. 

"You  knew?"  he  said. 

"Is  that  so  difficult  to  understand,  after  what  happened 
at  Alison's  Sault?" 

Ingleby  bent  down  and  took  one  of  her  hands,  but  he 
did  it  very  gently,  though  the  signs  of  the  fierce  restraint 
he  laid  upon  himself  were  in  his  face. 

"I  should  never  have  told  you,  Grace — I  lost  my  head," 
he  said.  "Still,  the  one  hope  that  has  led  me  so  far,  and 
will,  I  think,  lead  me  farther,  has  been  that  I  might — 
one  day  when  the  time  was  ripe — induce  you  to  listen,  and 
not  send  me  away.  Now  it  must  be  sufficient  that  you 
are  not  angry.    I  can  take  no  promise  from  you." 

"Is  it  worth  so  little?"  Grace  said  softly. 

Ingleby's  grasp  tightened  on  her  hand  until  it  grew  al- 
most painful.  "It  would,"  he  said,  "be  worth  everything 
to  me,  but  I  dare  not  take  it  now.  What  I  am,  you  know — 
but  the  claim  is  yielding  well — and  I  only  want  a  little 
time.  Until  I  can  ask  Major  Coulthurst  for  you  boldly 
you  must  be  free." 

Grace  looked  up  at  him.    "And  you?" 

"I,"  said  Ingleby  with  a  little  grave  smile,  "was  your 
very  willing  bondsman  ever  so  long  ago." 

{The  hot  flush  had  faded  from  his  face,  and  the  girl 


INGLEBY  LOSES  HIS  HEAD  239 

swept  her  skirt  aside,  and  made  room  for  him  beside  her. 
There  was,  she  knew,  no  fear  of  his  again  breaking  through 
the  restraint  he  had  laid  upon  himself.  She  was,  however, 
not  altogether  pleased  at  this,  for  while  it  was  evident  that 
his  attitude  was  warranted,  the  self-command  which  now 
characterized  it  was  not  quite  what  she  had  expected.  It 
scarcely  appeared  natural  under  the  circumstances. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "we  will  let  it  be  so,  and  I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you.  I  am  going  to  Vancouver  for  the  winter. 
In  fact,  I  should  have  left  already  but  for  the  snow." 

Ingleby  started  visibly.    "You  are  going  away?" 

"Yes,"  said  Grace,  with  a  trace  of  dryness  in  her  smile; 
"is  that  very  dreadful?  You  will  go  away  in  due  time, 
too.  While  you  struggle  for  what  you  think  will  buy  my 
favour,  i"  must  wait  patiently." 

"I  suppose  I  have  deserved  it,"  and  Ingleby  winced. 
"Still,  it  will  be  horribly  hard  to  let  you  go.  It  is  a  good 
deal  to  know  that  you  are  here  even  when  I  may  not  see 
you." 

Grace  smiled.  "Well,"  she  said,  "if  that  would  afford 
you  any  great  satisfaction,  is  there  any  reason  why  you 
should  not  go  to  Vancouver  too?  Most  of  the  placer 
miners  do." 

Ingleby's  glance  at  her  suggested  that  the  notion  had  not 
occurred  to  him.  Eegular  work  at  the  mine  would  be  out 
of  the  question  until  the  spring  came  round  again,  and 
already  several  of  the  men  were  talking  of  leaving  the 
valley.  He  could  also  readily  afford  to  spend  a  few  months 
in  Vancouver  now.  Still,  there  was  one  insuperable  ob- 
stacle. 

"If  I  had  only  kept  my  claim!"  he  said.  "It  is  hor- 
ribly unfortunate  I  let  it  go." 

"How  does  that  affect  the  question?" 

"I  made  a  compact  with  Tomlinson  to  hold  his  claim  for 
him." 

Once  more  the  colour  crept  into  Grace's  face.    "You  do 


240  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

not  mean  to  let  that  stop  you  when  there  are  men  you 
could  hire  to  do  what  the  law  requires?" 

"You  don't  seem  to  understand,"  and  there  was  a  trace 
of  astonishment  in  Ingleby's  eyes.  "  One  could  not  depend 
absolutely  upon  them,  and  I  made  a  bargain  with  Tomlin- 
son.  That  claim  is  worth  everything  to  him  and  his 
mother — I  think  it  is — back  in  Oregon." 

The  flush  grew  plainer  in  Grace's  cheek.  She  was  a  trifle 
imperious,  and  now  her  will  had  clashed  with  one  that  was 
as  resolute  as  it.  She  was,  however,  sensible  that  she  had 
blundered. 

"Those  men  could  do  almost  as  much  as  you  could, 
which  would,  after  all,  be  very  little  just  now,"  she  said. 
"I  never  meant  that  you  should  risk  the  claim  falling  in." 

"They  might  fall  sick,  or  get  hurt," 

"And  that  might  happen  to  you." 

"I  should,  at  least,  have  kept  my  word  to  Tomlinson," 
said  Ingleby  gravely. 

Grace  was  too  proud  to  persist.  He  was  right,  of  course, 
but  the  fact  that  he  would  sooner  part  from  her  than  incur 
the  slightest  risk  of  breaking  faith  with  Tomlinson  had 
nevertheless  its  sting.    That,  however,  she  would  not  show. 

"Then  I  suppose  I  must  not  complain,"  she  said.  "You 
evidently  have  no  intention  of  doing  so." 

Ingleby  made  a  little  gesture.  "It  will  be  hard — but  it 
can't  be  helped,"  he  replied.  "  As  you  said,  I  must  go  away 
too  one  day.  Still,  I  think  that  I,  at  least,  will  feel  by  and 
by  that  it  was  all  worth  while." 

Then  there  was  a  tramp  of  feet  in  the  adjoining  room, 
and  he  raised  the  hand  he  held  and  just  touched  it  with 
his  lips.  It  was  not  what  Grace  would  have  expected  from 
him,  but  she  noticed  that  he  did  not  do  it  awkwardly. 

"That  is  all  I  ask  until  I  have  won  my  spurs,"  he  said. 
"Just  now  I  am  only  the  squire  of  low  degree." 

Grace  said  nothing,  for  the  door  opened  and  the  major 
came  in. 


>  XXIV 

THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS 

IT  was  a  bitterly  cold  night,  and  Hetty  Leger  sat  close 
to  the  fire  which  crackled  on  the  big  hearth  in  the 
bakery  shanty.  It  flung  an  uncertain  radiance  and  pun- 
gent aromatic  odours  about  the  little  room,  but  there  was 
no  other  light.  Kerosene  is  unpleasantly  apt  to  impart  its 
characteristic  flavour  to  provisions  when  jolted  for  leagues 
in  company  with  them  on  the  same  pack-saddle,  and  the 
bringing  of  stores  of  any  kind  into  the  Green  Eiver  country 
was  then  a  serious  undertaking.  Tom  Leger  sat  by  the 
little  table,  and  Sewell  lay  upon  a  kind  of  ottoman  in- 
geniously extemporized  out  of  spruce-twigs  and  provision 
bags. 

It  was  significant  that  they  were  assembled  in  what  had 
been  Hetty's  private  apartment,  for  the  bakery  had  grown, 
and  there  were  two  other  rooms  attached  to  it  now.  Leger 
had  also  struck  gold  a  little  while  ago,  and  there  was  no 
longer  any  necessity  for  Hetty  to  continue  baking,  though 
she  did  so.  She  said  she  had  grown  used  to  it,  and  would 
sooner  have  something  to  do;  but  it  had  seemed  to  Leger 
that  while  everything  was  done  with  her  customary  neat- 
ness and  system  there  was  a  change  in  her,  and  he  fancied 
she  did  her  work  more  to  keep  herself  occupied  than  be- 
cause she  took  pleasure  in  it.  It  had  not  been  so  once.  In 
fact,  the  change  had  only  become  perceptible  after  Ingleby 
left  the  bakery;  but  Leger  was  wise  in  some  respects  and 
made  no  sign  that  he  noticed  this. 

241 


242  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

On  that  particular  evening  Hetty  had  not  displayed  her 
nsual  tranquillity  of  temper,  and  she  turned  to  her  brother 
with  a  little  shiver. 

"Can't  you  put  on  some  more  wood?  It's  disgustingly 
cold,"  she  said.  "If  I'd  known  they  had  weather  like  this 
here  I'd  have  stayed  in  Vancouver." 

Leger  remembered  that  she  had  once  professed  herself 
perfectly  contented  with  the  Green  River  country,  but  he  v 
did  not  think  it  advisable  to  mention  the  fact.     He  rose 
and  flung  an  armful  of  wood  upon  the  fire,  and  then  stood 
still  smiling. 

"You  know  you  can  go  back  there  and  stay  through  the 
winter,  if  you  would  like  to,"  he  said. 

"That's  nonsense,"  said  Hetty.  "How  could  I  go  my- 
self? You  and  your  friends  haven't  made  everybody  nice 
to  everybody  yet.  I'm  not  going,  anyway,  and  if  you 
worry  me  I'll  be  cross." 

She  looked  up  sharply  and  saw  that  Sewell's  face  was 
unnaturally  grave. 

"Of  course,"  she  said,  "you  were  grinning  at  Tom  a 
moment  ago.  Still,  I  can't  help  it  if  I  am  a  very  little 
cross  just  now.  It's  the  cold — and  Tom  spoiled  the  last 
batch  of  bread.  It  is  cold,  isn't  it?  If  it  hadn't  been,  we 
shouldn't  have  seen  you." 

"I  don't  know  why  you  should  seem  so  sure  of  that," 
said  Sewell. 

Hetty  looked  at  him  sharply.  "Well,"  she  said,  "I  am. 
You  would  have  gone  on  to  the  major's.  You  know  you 
would.    What  do  you  go  there  so  often  for?" 

Sewell  had  occasionally  found  Hetty's  questions  discon- 
certing, but  he  saw  that  she  expected  an  answer. 

"I  am  rather  fond  of  chess,"  he  said. 

Hetty  smiled  incredulously.     "That's  rubbish!" 

"The  major,  at  least,  likes  a  game,  and  after  pulling  him 
back  into  this  wicked  world  from  the  edge  of  a  gully  one 
naturally  feel  that  he  owes  him  a  little." 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS         243 

"You  didn't  pull  him.  It  was  Walter.  Hadn't  you 
better  try  again  ?" 

Sewell  appeared  a  trifle  embarrassed,  for  he  saw  that 
Leger  was  becoming  interested. 

"It  is,  to  some  extent,  my  business  to  understand  the 
habits  of  the  ruling  classes,"  he  said  reflectively.  "You 
see,  it's  almost  necessary.  Unless  I  know  a  little  about 
them,  how  can  I  persuade  anybody  how  far  they  are  be- 
neath us,  as  I'm  expected  to  do?" 

Hetty  laughed.  "Well,"  she  said,  "you  haven't  tried 
to  do  anything  of  that  kind  for  a  long  while  now.  Anyway, 
it  seems  to  me  that  you  knew  a  good  deal  about  them  before 
you  ever  saw  Major  Coulthurst.  Of  course,  it's  not  my 
business,  but  if  I  were  the  major  I'd  make  you  tell  me 
exactly  what  you  were  going  there  for." 

Sewell  apparently  did  not  relish  this,  though  he  laughed. 
It  happens  occasionally  that  those  most  concerned  in  what 
is  going  on  are  the  last  to  notice  it,  and  it  had  not  occurred 
to  Coulthurst  or  Ingleby  that  Sewell  spent  his  evenings  at 
the  Gold  Commissioners  dwelling  frequently.  He  had, 
however,  not  often  met  Ingleby  there,  and  it  was  signifi- 
cant that  neither  of  them  ever  mentioned  Grace  Coulthurst 
to  the  other.  In  any  case,  Sewell  did  not  answer,  and  while 
they  sat  silent  there  was  a  tramp  of  feet  outside  and  the 
corporal  came  in.  He  was  a  taciturn  and  somewhat  un- 
sociable man,  but  he  smiled  as  he  looked  at  Hetty  and  sat 
down  where  the  rude  chimney  Tomlinson  had  built  was 
between  him  and  the  one  small  window. 

"It's  a  bitter  night,  and  there's  'most  four  foot  of  snow 
on  the  range.  I  figured  I'd  look  in  to  tell  you  it  will  be 
two  or  three  days  yet  before  you  get  the  flour  the  folks  at 
the  settlements  are  sending  up,"  he  said.  "A  trooper  has 
just  come  in  with  the  mail,  and  he  left  the  freighter  and  his 
beasts  held  up  by  the  snow." 

He  stopped  a  moment,  and  looked  at  Leger  somewhat 
curiously.     "Somebody  has  just  gone  away?" 


244  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"No,"  said  Leger.  "We  have  had  nobody  here.  "We 
are  expecting  Ingleby,  but  he  hasn't  turned  up  yet." 

"Quite  sure  he's  not  outside  there?" 

"It's  scarcely  likely.  It's  a  little  too  cold  for  anybody 
to  stay  outside  when  he  needn't.  Ingleby  would  certainly 
come  in." 

"Well,"  said  the  corporal,  "I  guess  I  didn't  see  any- 
bod}%  after  all.  It  was  quite  dark,  anyway,  in  among  the 
trees.  Winter's  shutting  down  on  us  'most  a  month  before 
it  should  have  done.  It's  kind  of  fortunate  we  sent  the 
horses  out  when  we  did.  I  don't  know  what  they  wanted 
to  bring  them  for.  Nobody  has  any  use  for  horses  in  this 
country." 

It  was  evident  that  the  worthy  corporal  was  bent  on 
getting  away  from  what  he  felt  to  be  an  awkward  topic,  and 
Hetty  laughed  outright  at  his  quite  unnecessary  delicacy. 

"No,"  she  said,  "you  know  you  saw  somebody,  and 
fancied  it  was  one  of  the  boys  waiting  to  see  me." 

The  corporal  appeared  embarrassed,  but  was  wise  enough 
not  to  involve  himself  further.  "Well,"  he  said,  "when  I 
was  coming  along  the  trail  I  saw  a  man  slip  in  behind  a 
cedar.  That  kind  of  struck  me  as  not  the  usual  thing,  and  I 
went  round  the  other  way  to  meet  him.  It  was  quite  a 
big  tree,  and  when  I  got  around  he  wasn't  there.  You  keep 
the  dust  you  get  for  the  bread  in  the  shanty,  Leger?" 

"Yes,"  said  Leger.  "Most  of  the  boys  who  come  here 
know  where  it  is.  I  really  don't  think  there  is  any  reason 
why  they  shouldn't,  either." 

"No,"  said  the  corporal  reflectively,  "I  guess  there  isn't. 
I'll  say  that  for  them.    Still,  I  did  see  somebody." 

He  contrived  to  glance  round  at  the  faces  of  the  rest, 
unnoticed  by  any  of  them  except  Hetty,  and  was  satisfied 
that  they  knew  no  more  than  he  did.  The  corporal  had 
been  a  long  while  a  policeman,  and  had  quick  perceptions. 
He  decided  to  look  into  the  matter  later. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  guess  it's  not  worth  worrying  over." 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS         245 

He  drew  a  little  closer  to  the  fire,  and  nobody  said  any- 
thing for  a  minute  or  two,  though  Hetty  glanced  towards 
the  little  window.  The  room  was  dim  except  when  a  blaze 
sprang  up,  and  turning  suddenly  she  stirred  the  fire,  and 
then,  for  no  very  apparent  reason,  set  herself  to  liken. 
The  bush  outside  was  very  still,  and  she  could  hear  the 
frost-dried  snow  fall  softly  from  a  branch.  Then  there  was 
a  sharp  snapping  of  resinous  wood  in  the  fire,  and  it  was 
not  until  that  died  away  she  heard  a  sound  again.  It  was 
very  faint,  and  suggested  a  soft  crunching  down  of  powdery 
snow.  Nobody  else  seemed  to  hear  it,  not  even  the  cor- 
poral, who  was  apparently  examining  a  rent  in,  his  tunic 
just  then,  and  she  had  almost  persuaded  herself  that  she 
had  fancied  it  when  she  glanced  towards  the  window  again. 
A  flickering  blaze  was  roaring  up  the  chimney  now. 

Then  a  little  shiver  ran  through  her,  and  closing  her 
hands  tight  she  stared  at  the  glass  in  horror.  A  face  was 
pressed  against  it,  a  drawn,  grey  face  that  seemed  awry 
with  pain.  There  was,  however,  something  that  reminded 
her  of  somebody  in  it,  and  she  was  about  to  cry  out  when 
she  felt  a  hand  laid  restrainingly  on  her  arm.  Glancing 
over  her  shoulder,  she  saw  that  her  brother  was  also  gazing 
at  the  window,  and  then  she  knew  suddenly  to  whom  the 
face  belonged.  It  had  gone  when  she  looked  round  again, 
and  it  was  evident  that  neither  Sewell  nor  the  corporal  had 
seen  it.  Unfortunately,  it  appeared  very  unlikely  that  the 
man  outside  could  have  seen  the  latter,  and  she  knew  that 
something  must  be  done,  or  in  another  moment  or  two 
Prospector  Tomlinson  would  walk  into  the  arms  of  the 
policeman.  Leger  appeared  incapable  of  suggesting  any- 
thing and  was  gazing  at  her  with  apprehension  in  his  eyes. 

It  was  a  singularly  unpleasant  moment.  Hetty  was 
aware  that  she  and  her  brother  owed  Tomlinson  a  good 
deal,  and,  in  any  case,  it  would  be  particularly  distasteful 
to  see  him  arrested.  She  was  also  by  no  means  certain  that 
her  brother  and  Sewell  would  permit  it,  and  the  corporal 


246  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

was  a  heavily-built  man.  It  very  seldom  happens  that  a 
Northwest  policeman  lets  a  prisoner  go;  and  Hetty  was 
quite  aware  that  the  result  of  a  struggle  might  be  disas- 
trous to  everybody.  She  realized  this  in  a  flash,  and  then 
there  was  a  sound  of  shuffling  feet  outside  in  the  snow. 
They  were  approaching  the  doorway,  and  she  knew  it 
would  be  flung  open  in  another  moment  or  two.  Then  the 
inspiration  came  suddenly. 

"There's  somebody  outside,"  she  said,  and  laughed  as 
she  noticed  the  bewildered  consternation  in  her  brother's 
eyes.    "If  it's  Ingleby  I  don't  think  I'll  let  him  in." 

Her  voice  was  almost  as  steady  as  usual,  and  apparently 
Leger  alone  noticed  the  suggestion  of  strain  in  it,  while 
next  moment  she  crossed  the  room  and  threw  the  door  open. 
It  was  narrow,  however,  and  she  stood  carefully  in  the 
middle  of  it. 

"You're  not  coming  in,  Walter,  until  you  cut  some 
wood,"  she  said.  "You  never  touched  the  axe  the  last  time 
you  came." 

Hetty's  nerve  almost  failed  her  during  the  next  few 
moments,  and  she  felt  the  throbbing  of  her  heart  while  the 
man  the  others  could  not  see  blinked  at  her  stupidly.  She 
dare  venture  no  plainer  warning,  and  he  was  apparently 
dazed  with  cold  and  weariness. 

"I'm  not  going  to  stand  here.  It's  too  cold,"  she  said. 
"  If  you're  too  lazy  to  do  what  I  tell  you,  I'll  ask  the  cor- 
poral." 

Then  she  banged  the  door  to,  and  went  back  to  her  seat 
with  a  little  laugh  that  sounded  slightly  hollow  to  her 
brother,  at  least. 

"If  there's  one  thing  Walter  doesn't  like  it's  chopping 
wood — and  that's  why  I  wouldn't  let  him  off,"  she  said. 
"He  hasn't  troubled  to  come  round  and  see  me  for  a  week. 
I'm  vexed  with  him." 

Now,  the  corporal  was,  of  course,  aware  that  throughout 
most  of  Western  Canada  visitors  to  a  homestead  not  in- 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS         247 

frequently  lighten  their  hostess's  labour  by  washing  the 
dishes  or  carrying  wood.  In  the  case  of  the  miners,  who 
were  pleased  to  spend  an  hour  at  the  bakery,  chopping 
wood  for  the  oven  was  the  most  obvious  thing,  though  those 
specially  favoured  were  now  and  then  permitted  to  weigh 
out  flour  or  knead  the  bread.  There  was  thus  nothing 
astonishing  in  what  Hetty  had  apparently  said  to  Ingleby, 
nor  did  Sewell,  who  provoked  the  corporal  into  an  attempt 
to  prove  that  the  troopers'  carbine  was  a  more  efficient 
weapon  than  the  miners'  Marlin  rifle,  appear  to  notice 
anything  unusual,  and  only  Leger  saw  that  Hetty's  colour 
was  fainter  than  it  had  been  and  that  she  was  quivering  a 
little. 

In  the  meanwhile  there  was  a  tramp  of  feet  outside, 
which  grew  less  distinct,  until  the  ringing  chunk  of  the 
axe  replaced  it,  and  Leger  wondered  how  he  could  make 
Sewell  understand  that  it  was  desirable  to  cut  the  discus- 
sion short.  He  could  think  of  no  means  of  doing  it  and 
glanced  at  Hetty  anxiously,  for  how  long  the  corporal 
meant  to  stay  was  becoming  a  somewhat  momentous  ques- 
tion. A  man  accustomed  to  the  axe  can  split  a  good  deal 
of  wood  in  ten  minutes,  even  when  he  works  by  moonlight ; 
and  it  was  evident  that  the  one  outside  could  not  continue 
his  chopping  indefinitely  without  the  corporal's  wondering 
what  was  keeping  him. 

Ten  minutes  passed,  and  the  regular  thud  of  the  axe 
rang  through  the  forest  outside,  while  the  corporal,  who 
was  a  persistent  man,  still  diseussed  extractors  and  maga- 
zine springs.  Leger  felt  the  tension  becoming  intolerable. 
Then  Hetty  contrived  to  catch  Sewell's  attention,  and, 
looking  at  him  steadily,  set  her  lips  tight.  The  corporal 
had,  as  it  happened,  turned  from  the  girl;  but  she  saw  a 
gleam  of  comprehension  in  Sewell's  eyes. 

"Well,"  he  said  reflectively,  "I  suppose  you  are  right. 
I  like  the  easier  pull-off  of  the  American  rifles.  One  is  less 
apt  to  shake  the  sights  off  the  mark,  but  no  doubt  with 


248  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

men  accustomed  to  the  handling  of  rifled  weapons,  as  the 
police  troopers  are,  the  little  extra  pull  required  is  no  great 
matter." 

The  corporal  was  evidently  gratified.  "I've  shown  quite 
a  few  men  they  were  wrong  on  that  point,  and  now  I  guess 
I  must  be  getting  on.    You'll  excuse  me,  Miss  Leger?" 

He  put  on  his  fur-coat  and  opened  the  door,  but  Hetty's 
heart  throbbed  again  when  he  stopped  a  moment  As  it 
happened,  the  fire  was  flashing  brilliantly,  and  the  corporal 
appeared  to  be  looking  down  at  the  footprints  by  the 
threshold. 

"I've  seen  Ingleby  twice  since  the  snow  came,  and  he 
was  wearing  gum-boots,"  he  said.  "The  man  who  was 
outside  here  had  played-out  leather  ones  on." 

"Walter  has  an  old  pair  he  wore  until  lately,"  said  Leger. 
"There's  a  good  deal  of  sharp  grit  in  the  Tomlinson  mine, 
and  he'd  probably  come  along  in  the  boots  he  went  down 
in." 

This  appeared  reasonable,  and  the  corporal  made  a  little 
gesture  as  though  to  show  that  he  concurred  in  it,  and  then, 
stepping  forward,  disappeared  into  the  night.  Sewell  rose 
and  shut  the  door,  and  then  glanced  at  Hetty,  who  stood 
quivering  a  little  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"I  fancy  one  of  you  has  something  to  tell  me,"  he  said. 

Hetty  gasped.  "Oh,"  she  said,  "I  thought  he  meant  to 
stay  until  morning!    It  was  getting  awful,  Tom." 

Then  she  looked  at  Sewell.  "Don't  you  know?"  she 
said.     "It's  Tomlinson." 

"Now,"  said  Sewell,  whose  astonishment  was  evident, 
"I  think  I  understand.  There  can  scarcely  be  many  girls 
capable  of  doing  what  you  have  done." 

Hetty  made  a  little  sign  of  impatience.  "Yes,  there  are 
— lots  of  them.  Of  course,  you  think  all  women  are  silly — ■ 
you're  only  a  man.  Besides,  Tom  pinched  me.  But  why 
are  you  stopping  here  and  talking?    Go  and  bring  him." 

Both  Leger  and  Sewell  went,  and  Tomlinson  came  back 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS         249 

with  them.  He  was  haggard  and  ragged,  and  his  thin  jean 
garments  were  hard  with  the  frozen  snow-dust.  He 
dropped  into  the  nearest  chair  and  blinked  at  them. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I'm  here  and  'most  starving.  Get  me 
something  to  eat,  and  I'll  try  to  tell  you." 

They  gave  him  what  they  had,  and  he  ate  ravenously, 
while  Hetty's  eyes  softened  as  she  watched  him. 

"You  have  had  a  hard  time?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  man  slowly,  "I  guess  I  had.  I  got 
stuck  up  in  the  range.  Couldn't  make  anything  of  the 
gorge  in  the  loose  snow.  Tried  to  crawl  up  over  the  ice 
track  and  dropped  through.  Burst  the  pack-straps  getting 
out,  and  don't  know  where  most  of  the  grub  and  one 
blanket  went  to.  It  was  the  bigger  packet.  That  was  why 
I  had  to  come  back.  I  don't  quite  know  how  I  made  the 
valley." 

"When  did  you  lose  the  grub?"  asked  Sewell. 

Tomlinson  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  quite  know,"  he 
said.    "I  guess  it  must  have  been  'most  three  weeks  ago." 

Leger  looked  at  Sewell,  for  that  was  quite  sufficient  to 
give  point  to  the  bald  narrative. 

"What  was  in  the  smaller  package  would  scarcely  keep 
a  man  in  health  a  week,"  he  said.  "I'm  not  going  to  keep 
you  talking,  Tomlinson,  but — although  it's  fortunate  you 
did  so — why  did  you  stop  outside  instead  of  coming  in?" 

"I  saw  a  man,"  said  Tomlinson.  "I  figured  it  wouldn't 
be  wise  to  show  myself  until  I  was  sure  of  him.  Then  when 
I  crawled  up  to  the  shanty  I  didn't  seem  to  remember  any- 
thing.   I  only  wanted  to  get  in." 

He  stopped,  and  looked  at  Leger.  "I  can't  push  on  to- 
night— I'm  'most  used-up,  but  I'm  not  going  to  stay  here 
and  make  trouble  for  you.    I'll  light  out  again  to-morrow. " 

"You  are  going  to  lie  down  and  sleep  now,"  said  Hetty 
severely.  "We'll  decide  what  is  the  wisest  thing  to  do 
to-morrow,  but  you  shan't  leave  the  shanty  for  a  day  or 


250  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

two,  anyway.     No,  I'm  not  going  to  listen  to  anything. 
He's  to  sleep  in  the  store,  Tom." 

Tomlinson  appeared  desirous  of  protesting,  but  Leger 
laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  led  him.  into  an  outbuilt 
room. 


XXV 

TOMLINSON"  GETS  AWAY 

HP  HE  early  Canadian  supper  had  been  cleared  away,  and 
Sewell  was  sitting  with  Grace  Coulthurst  opposite 
him  by  the  little  stove  in  the  inner  room  of  the  Gold  Com- 
missioner's dwelling,  as  he  had  done  somewhat  frequently 
of  late.  The  major  was  apparently  occupied  with  his 
business  in  the  adjoining  room,  for  they  could  hear  a 
rustle  of  papers,  and  now  and  then  the  shutting  of  a  book, 
through  the  door,  which  stood  partly  open.  He  closed  one 
a  trifle  noisily,  and  the  next  moment  his  voice  reached 
them. 

"This  thing  has  kept  me  longer  than  I  expected,  but 
I  must  get  it  finished  before  I  stop.  Esmond's  sending 
a  trooper  off  first  thing  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "Still,  I 
shall  not  be  much  longer,  and  then  we'll  get  out  the  chess." 

Coulthurst  had  spoken  loudly,  and  as  Sewell  and  Grace 
did  not  raise  their  voices  it  appeared  probable  that  he 
could  not  hear  what  they  were  saying.  Sewell  smiled  as 
he  glanced  at  the  girl. 

"I  am  not  particularly  impatient,  or  sorry  for  Major 
Coulthurst,  though  one  could  fancy  that  his  dislike  of 
official  correspondence  is  quite  as  strong  as  his  fondness 
for  chess.  He  knows  exactly  what  he  has  to  do,  and  does 
it  without  having  to  trouble  about  the  results,  which  in 
his  ease  concern  the  Crown.  That  naturally  simplifies  one's 
outlook." 

"The  major,"  said  Grace  reflectively,  "has  arrived  at 
251 


252  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

an  age  when  one  does  not  expect  too  much,  and  is  content 
with  the  obvious,  which  is  certainly  an  advantage." 

"And  we,  being  younger,  are  different  in  that  respect?" 

Grace  was  a  trifle  disconcerted,  which  occasionally  hap- 
pened when  Sewell  talked  to  her,  though  she  looked  at 
him  with  a  little  smile  in  her  eyes.  It  was,  at  least,  not 
very  clear  to  her  why  she  found  it  pleasant  to  discuss  such 
questions  with  him  in  a  confidential  voice  when  she  had, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  plighted  herself  to  Ingleby. 
Sewell  was  always  deferential,  but  there  was  something  in 
his  attitude  which  suggested  personal  admiration  for  her, 
though  she  was  not  quite  sure  that  the  vague  word  "liking" 
was  not  a  little  nearer  the  mark.  How  far  that  liking 
went  she  did  not  know,  but  while  she  had  no  intention  of 
allowing  it  in  any  way  to  prejudice  her  regard  for  Ingleby, 
Sewell  was,  she  knew,  of  subtler  and  more  complex  nature, 
and  the  craving  for  influence  was  strong  in  her.  She 
knew  what,  under  any  given  circumstances,  Ingleby  would 
probably  do,  and  though  this  was  satisfactory  in  one  re- 
spect it  had  its  disadvantages.  She  had  long  been  troubled 
with  a  fondness  for  probing  into  masculine  thoughts  and 
emotions,  and  it  pleased  her  to  find  an  opportunity  for 
directing  them,  which  was  not  often  afforded  her  in  In- 
gleby's  case.  His  programme  was  usually  cut  and  dried, 
and  it  was,  as  a  rule,  an  almost  exasperatingly  simple  one. 

"I  suppose  we  are,"  she  said.  "When  I  know  what 
is  expected,  of  me,  I  usually  want  to  do  something  else." 

Now  Sewell  was  not  aware  how  matters  stood  between 
her  and  his  comrade,  but  he  might  have  guessed  what  she 
was  thinking,  for  his  next  remark  was  curiously  apposite. 

"I'm  not  sure  that  the  obvious  people  are  not  the  most 
fortunate,"  he  said,  with  a  little  laugh.  "They  know 
exactly  what  they  want,  which  not  infrequently  means 
that  what  they  have  to  do  to  get  it  is  equally  plain.  It 
must  necessarily   save  them   a   good  many   perplexities. 


TOMLINSON  GETS  AWAY  253 

Now  take  the  case  of  my  very  obvious  comrade, 
Ingleby." 

"Well?" 

"Ingleby  wants  to  make  a  fortune  placer  mining." 

"Which  is,  from  your  point  of  view,  a  most  reprehensible 
thing!" 

Sewell  laughed.  "That  is  not  quite  the  point.  Per- 
haps he  means  to  do  good  with  it,  and  it  ought  to  be  quite 
plain  that  Ingleby  has  no  real  sympathy  with  Communist 
notions.  In  any  case,  he  sets  about  it  in  the  simplest 
fashion  by  working  most  of  every  day  and  often  half  the 
night  as  well.  The  result  is  that  he  has  acquired  what  is 
apparentty'a  competence  and  is  more  or  less  contented  with 
everything.  Any  one  can  see  it  in  the  way  he  looks  at  you 
lately." 

Grace  smiled,  for  it  was  evident  that  there  were  directions 
in  which  SewelTs  penetration  was  defective. 

"The  fortune  will  probably  come  later,"  she  said.  "And 
then " 

"Yes,"  said  Sewell,  with  a  little  gesture  of  comprehen- 
sion. "Since  he  has  made  his  mind  up,  he  will,  I  fancy, 
manage  that,  too.  Ingleby  is  that  kind  of  person.  Then, 
if  he  does  not  do  so  sooner,  he  will  naturally  marry  Hetty 
Leger." 

Grace  turned  to  him  sharply  and  then  directed  his  at- 
tention to  the  fact  that  the  door  at  the  bottom  of  the  stove 
admitted  rather  too  much  draught.  He  was  a  moment  or 
two  adjusting  it,  and  when  he  looked  up  again  she  was 
smiling  indifferently. 

"You  are  sure  of  that?"  she  said. 

"I  think  so.  Ingleby  invariably  does  the  obvious  thing, 
and  she  is  eminently  suited  to  him.  I'm  not  sure  he  recog- 
nizes it  yet;  but  it  will  certainly  become  evident,  and  then 
he  will  save  himself  and  everybody  trouble  by  marrying 
her  off-hand." 

Grace  sat  silent  for  almost  a  minute.    It  was  perfectly 


254  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

clear  that  Sewell  did  not  know  what  his  comrade's  as- 
pirations were,  even  as  Ingleby  did  not  know  how  far  her 
acquaintance  with  Sewell  went.  She  was  not  altogether 
displeased  that  it  should  be  so,  though  she  felt  that  it 
would,  after  all,  make  no  great  change  in  their  relations  to 
each  other  had  they  been  aware.  She  did  not  desire  Sewell 
as  a  lover,  though  it  was  pleasant  to  feel  that  he  valued  her 
approbation  and  that  she  had  his  confidence. 

"There  are,  of  course,  advantages  in  doing  the  obvious 
thing,"  she  said,  with  a  little  laugh.  "I  suppose  we  are 
really  different  from  Ingleby  in  that  respect?" 

Sewell  looked  at  her  reflectively.  "I  think  you  are. 
One  could  almost  fancy  you  wanted  so  many  things  that 
you  couldn't  quite  decide  which  was  the  most  important 
and  give  up  the  rest.  The  difficulty  is  that  we  can't  very 
often  have  them  all,  you  see." 

It  seemed  to  Grace  that  there  was  some  truth  in  this. 
"You,"  she  said,  "speak  feelingly — as  though  it  were  from 
sympathy." 

"Well,"  said  Sewell,  with  a  curious  little  smile,  "perhaps 
I  do.  In  fact,  I'm  not  sure  I'm  not  diagnosing  my  own 
case.  A  little  while  ago  I  had  a  purpose  and  believed  in  it, 
though  the  belief  naturally  cost  me  a  good  deal." 

"The  creation  of  a  new  Utopia  out  of  the  wreck  of  the 
present  social  fabric  ?"  asked  Grace,  a  trifle  maliciously. 

"Something  of  the  kind,  though  I  did  not  expect  to 
do  it  all  myself.  While  I  was  sure  the  thing  was  feasible, 
the  fact  that  I  was,  or  so  I  felt,  taking  a  little  share  in 
bringing  it  about  was  sufficient  for  me.  Now,  however, 
I  am  not  quite  so  sure  on  any  point  as  I  used  to  be,  which 
lis  why.  I  often  envy  Ingleby." 

Grace  felt  a  little  thrill  of  satisfaction.  He  had,  of 
course,  spoken  vaguely ;  but  she  wondered  how  far  she  was 
responsible  for  the  change  in  the  opinions  which  he  had 
held  until  a  little  while  ago.  She  knew  that  he  had  borne  a 
good  deal  because  of  them,  for  Ingleby  had  told  her  so. 


TOMLINSON  GETS  AWAY  255 

"Then  there  may  be  a  little  good  in  a  few  of  out  insti- 
tutions as  they  stand?"  she  said. 

"Of  course !"  answered  Sewell,  who  smiled  again.  "Most 
of  them  are,  however,  capable  of  improvement.  I  am 
quite  as  sure  of  that  as  ever.  The  question  is,  whether 
anybody  would  gain  much  if  it  were  effected  too  rudely." 

Grace  was  not  greatly  interested  in  the  point.  She 
preferred  a  more  personal  topic,  but  she  saw  an  opportunity 
for  trying  how  far  her  influence  went.  It  had  been  a  trifle 
painful  to  find  that  Ingleby  had  not  yielded  to  it  when  she 
had  desired  him  to  spend  the  winter  in  Vancouver  and 
leave  somebody  else  to  hold  Tomlinson's  claim.  Sewell  was, 
she  recognized,  a  cleverer  man  than  he,  and  it  would  be  con- 
soling if  he  showed  himself  more  amenable. 

"I  think  not — at  least,  so  far  as  anybody  in  the  Green 
Eiver  country  is  concerned,"  she  said.  "It  seems  to  me 
that  its  tranquillity  depends  a  good  deal  on  you." 

"On  me?" 

Grace  smiled.  "Of  course!  You  know  it  as  well  as 
I  do.  Wouldn't  it  be  better  for  your  friends  to  put  up 
with  a  few  little  grievances  rather  than  run  the  risk  of 
bringing  a  worse  thing  upon  themselves?" 

"Would  we  do  that?" 

"I  think  so.  The  major  is  a  lenient  commissioner;  and 
the  law  would  be  too  strong  for  you." 

Sewell  laughed.  "That,"  he  said,  "would  have  to  be 
proved,  and  I  am  not  sure  it  is  a  good  reason  you  are 
offering  me." 

Grace  nodded.  "No,"  she  said,  "perhaps  it  isn't.  You 
rather  like  opposition,  don't  you  ?  Still,  I  think  one  could 
leave  it  to  your  good  sense,  while  I  would  especially  like  to 
see  all  quiet  this  winter  in  the  Green  River  valley.  That, 
however,  could,  of  course,  scarcely  be  thought  a  reason 
at  all." 

Sewell  made  no  disclaimer,  but  he  looked  at  her  with  a 
curious  intensity. 


256  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Events,"  he  said  slowly,  "may  be  too  strong  for  me, 
and  when  I  am  sure  they  are  right,  I  cannot  go  counter  to 
my  opinions." 

"Of  course !"  and  the  girl  leaned  forward  a  little  nearer 
him,  resting  one  hand  on  the  arm  of  her  chair.  "That  is 
more  than  I  would  ever  ask  of  you.  Still,  perhaps  you 
could " 

Sewell  looked  at  her  gravely,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
one  that  rested  on  the  chair. 

"I  will,"  he  said  quietly,  "with  that  one  reservation, 
do  whatever  appears  most  likely  to  preserve  tranquillity." 

Grace  did  not  shake  his  grasp  off,  as  she  should  have 
done.  Indeed,  a  little  thrill  of  triumph  ran  through  her  as 
she  realized  the  significance  of  what  had  happened.  The 
man  who  held  her  hand  fast  had  borne  imprisonment  for  his 
beliefs,  and  had  also  braved  hostile  mobs,  hired  bravos,  and 
detachments  of  U.S.  cavalry,  and  now  she  had  made  him 
captive  with  a  smile.  It  was,  from  one  point  of  view,  a 
notable  achievement,  and  it  did  not  dawn  on  her  that  if 
regarded  from  another  point  what  she  had  done  might  wear 
a  different  aspect.  Just  then  a  book  in  the  other  room  was 
closed  with  a  bang,  and  Grace  drew  her  hand  away  as 
Coulthurst  came  in. 

"Sorry  to  leave  you  alone  so  long,  but  we  can  get  the 
chessmen  out  at  last,"  he  said. 

Sewell  set  out  the  pieces,  and  Grace,  who  flashed  a  little 
smile  at  him,  which  implied  that  there  was  now  a  con- 
fidence between  them,  took  up  a  book.  As  it  happened, 
!  neither  of  them  knew  that  Prospector  Tomlinson  was  plod- 
ding down  the  trail  that  led  south  through  leagues  of 
forest  and  snow-blocked  defiles  towards  the  settlements 
just  then,  though  the  fact  had  its  results  for  both  of  them. 

A  half-moon  hung  low  above  the  white  shoulder  of  a  hill, 
and  here  and  there  a  shaft  of  silvery  light  shone  down  upon 
the  snowy  trail  which  wound  in  and  out  through  the  gloom 
of  the  firs.    Tomlinson  was  one  of  the  simple-minded  per- 


TOMLINSON  GETS  AWAY  257 

sons  who  content  themselves  with  doing  the  obvious  thing, 
and,  as  it  was  quite  plain  to  him  that  he  could  not  stay  at 
the  bakery  without  probability  of  being  discovered  and 
getting  his  hosts  into  trouble,  he  had,  in  spite  of  Hetty's 
protests,  persisted  in  setting  out  for  the  settlements,  though 
he  was  still  scarcely  capable  of  the  journey  and  it  had  been 
pointed  out  that  there  was  a  likelihood  of  his  falling  in 
with  the  police  troopers.  The  latter  fact  did  not,  however, 
so  far  as  Tomlinson  could  see,  affect  the  question.  The  one 
thing  that  was  clear  to  him  was  that  he  could  not  permit 
Hetty  and  Tom  Leger  to  involve  themselves  in  difficulties. 

He  carried  two  rolled-up  blankets  and  a  good  many 
pounds  of  provisions,  as  well  as  a  Marlin  rifle,  for  it  was  a 
very  long  way  to  the  settlements,  and  the  snow  was  deep 
in  the  passes.  He  also  walked  slowly  and  with  an  effort, 
for  the  strength  he  had  exhausted  had  scarcely  come  back 
to  him  yet,  while  the  dusty  snow  balled  beneath  his  worn- 
out  boots. 

The  bush  was  very  still,  for  only  a  low  murmur  came 
up  across  the  pines  from  the  rapids,  which  were  free  of  ice. 
The  trees  rose  above  him,  solid  spires  of  blackness  cut  sharp 
against  the  white  hillside  beyond  them,  and  Tomlinson 
was  glad  of  their  shadow,  because  the  corporal  and  one 
of  the  troopers  had  gone  down  the  trail  that  afternoon, 
and,  uncertain  whether  they  had  come  back,  he  had  no  wish 
to  meet  them.  It  is  scarcely  likely  that  he  would  have  done 
so,  for  he  had  an  excellent  sense  of  hearing  and  was  making 
very  little  noise,  had  not  a  trooper  stopped  to  do  some- 
thing to  his  newly-issued  winter  coat,  which  did  not  fit 
him  comfortably.  He  spent  some  little  time  over  it,  as  it 
was  necessary  to  take  his  big  mittens  off,  and  the  corporal 
improved  the  occasion  by  sitting  down  on  a  fallen  tree  to 
light  his  pipe.  They  were  both  a  little  outside  the  trail 
and  in  black  shadow. 

Tomlinson,  in  the  meanwhile,  came  to  an  open  space 
some  two  or  three  score  yards  across.     There  were  black 


258  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

firs  all  about  it,  but  the  snow  among  them  seemed  deeper, 
and,  as  he  could  hear  nothing  but  the  murmur  of  the  river, 
he  made  haste  to  cross  it.  It  appeared  advisable  that 
nobody  should  see  him.  He  had  almost  reached  the  gloom 
of  the  firs  again  when  he  heard  a  little,  scraping  sound 
not  unlike  that  the  rubbing  of  a  sulphur  match  would 
make,  and  he  stood  still  listening  until  a  faint  blue  radiance 
appeared  amidst  the  trees,  and  then  he  moved  towards 
the  nearest  undergrowth  with  long  and  almost  noiseless 
strides.  In  another  moment  he  stopped  abruptly,  and  a 
man  in  uniform,  who  came  out  from  the  dark  gap  of  the 
trail,  also  stopped  and  appeared  to  gaze  at  him.  He  car- 
ried a  carbine.  The  men  were  close  together,  and  the  moon, 
which  had  just  cleared  the  dark  fir-tops,  shone  down  on 
both  of  them.  The  miner's  face,  as  the  policeman  saw, 
was  drawn  and  grim. 

"Tomlinson!"  he  gasped  and  then  appeared  to  shake 
his  astonishment  from  him.    "Stop  right  where  you  are!" 

Tomlinson  said  nothing  but,  springing  forward,  hurled 
himself  into  the  undergrowth,  which  opened  with  a  crash 
and  then  closed  behind  him,  while  the  trooper,  who  glanced 
over  his  shoulder  as  if  to  see  where  the  corporal  was,  wasted 
another  moment.  Then  he,  too,  sped  across  the  little  gap 
in  the  forest,  floundering  through  loose  snow;  and  fell 
into  a  barberry  bush,  which  held  him  fast.  So  far.  fortune 
had  favoured  Tomlinson ;  but  as  he  flitted  through  the  bush 
looking  for  a  little  bye-trail  which  he  knew  was  near,  the 
corporal  appeared  suddenly  from  behind  a  tree  and  threw 
his  carbine  up. 

"Hold  on!"  he  said.    "I've  something  to  say  to  you." 

A  stray  gleam  of  moonlight  that  shone  down  just  there 
flung  a  patch  of  brightness  athwart  the  snow,  and  Tom- 
linson could  see  the  white  face  pressed  down  upon  the 
carbine-stock,  but  he  did  not  pull  up.  Instead,  he  leapt  into 
the  shadow,  and  in  another  second  there  was  a  pale  flash, 
and  a  sharp  detonation  rang  among  the  trunks.     Then  he 


TOMLINSON  GETS  AWAY  259 

whipped  behind  a  tree,  and,  seeing  two  men  close  behind 
him  now,  flung  up  his  rifle.  In  his  country  a  man  who  is 
shot  at  usually  considers  himself  warranted  in  retaliating, 
and  Tomlinson  was  accustomed  to  the  rifle.  In  fact,  he 
handled  it  much  as  an  English  sportsman  does  a  gun,  by 
the  balance  of  it,  and  with  an  instinctive  sense  of  direction 
which  did  not  necessitate  the  aligning  of  the  sights.  The 
result  of  this  was  that  as  the  butt  came  home  to  his  shoulder 
the  trooper  dropped  his  carbine  with  a  cry,  and  Tomlinson 
sprang  away  once  more  through  the  smoke.  He  might 
have  got  away  altogether,  but  the  corporal  could  shoot 
as  well  as  he  could,  and  a  few  seconds  later  the  fugitive 
felt  a  stinging  pain  in  one  shoulder. 

He  staggered  but  recovered  himself  again,  and  running 
a  few  yards  farther  dropped  into  a  thicket,  and  wriggled 
under  it  on  his  hands  and  knees.  Then,  while  an  un- 
pleasant faintness  crept  over  him,  he  felt  for  the  long 
knife  which  the  prospector  uses  for  cutting  up  an  occasional 
deer.  It  did  not  appear  advisable  to  snap  another  cartridge 
into  the  rifle-breech  just  then,  and  the  knife  would  prove 
equally  serviceable  if  his  pursuers  crawled  into  the  thicket 
after  him.  Prospector  Tomlinson  was,  like  most  of  the 
men  who  sojourn  in  that  wilderness,  a  little  primitive  in 
his  notions,  and  the  troopers  had  fired  on  him. 

One  of  them  made  a  good  deal  of  noise  floundering 
through  a  belt  of  undergrowth  just  then,  and  only  stopped 
when  the  corporal  called  to  him. 

"Where's  that  blame  branch-trail?"  he  asked. 

"It's  right  here,"  said  the  trooper.  "I  guess  our  man's 
lit  out  along  it." 

Time  was  of  some  consequence,  and  the  corporal  did 
not  deem  it  advisable  to  stop  and  consider.  A  man  floun- 
dering through  the  undergrowth  would,  he  reasoned,  be 
heard  a  long  way  off,  while  a  bushman  could  proceed  with 
very  little  noise  along  a  beaten  track.  Thus,  as  he  could 
hear  nothing,  it  appeared  very  probable  that  Tomlinson  had 


2G0  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

taken  the  latter.  He  and  the  trooper  pushed  on  alonir  it 
for  awhile,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  the  prospector,  and 
they  came  back  moodily  to  where  they  had  last  seen  him, 
and  proceeded  to  search  every  thicket  in  the  vicinity.  They 
spent  at  least  an  hour  over  it,  but  there  was  still  no  ap- 
pearance of  Tomlinson,  and  at  last  the  corporal  sat  down 
disgustedly  upon  the  fallen  fir. 

"I  feel  'most  certain  I  plugged  him  once,"  he  said. 
"What  d'you  let  go  your  carbine  for?" 

The  trooper  held  the  weapon  up  in  the  moonlight  and 
glanced  at  the  grey  smear  down  the  barrel.  Then  he  held 
up  his  left  hand,  which  was  stained  with  red. 

"I'm  not  quite  sure  if  the  top  of  one  of  my  fingers  is 
on  or  not,"  he  said.    "Anyway,  my  mitten's  full  of  blood." 

The  corporal  nodded  curtly.  "I  guess  it  will  grow 
again,"  he  said.  "Well,  it  seems  to  me  nobody  could  do 
anything  more  to-night.  We'll  pick  his  trail  up  soon  as 
it's  daylight."  Then  they  shook  the  powdery  snow  from 
them  and  plodded  on  towards  the  outpost. 


XXVI 

THE  OBVIOUS  THING 

'"pHE  stars  were  paling  overhead,  and  the  snow  that  cut 
against  the  sky-  was  growing  white  again ;  but  it  was 
very  cold  among  the  pines  where  Leger  was  busy  about 
the  crackling  fire.  A  column  of  smoke  rose  slowly  straight 
up  into  the  nipping  air,  and  the  blaze  flickered  redly  upon 
the  clustering  trunks,  while  the  sound  of  an  unfrozen  rapid 
broke  faintly  through  the  snapping  of  the  fire.  Leger,  who 
felt  his  fingers  stiffening,  took  up  his  axe,  and  the  rhythmic 
thudding  rang  sharply  in  the  stillness  of  the  woods  when 
Hetty  appeared  in  the  door  of  the  shanty,  shadowy  and 
shapeless  in  the  coarse  blanket  she  had  thrown  about  her 
shoulders.    She  shivered  a  little  as  she  looked  around  her. 

"It  has  been  a  bitter  night — the  cold  woke  me  when  the 
fire  got  low,"  she  said.  "Tomlinson  must  have  felt  it 
horribly.  I  wonder  where  he's  getting  his  breakfast  ?  You 
shouldn't  have  let  him  go." 

Leger  laughed  and  leaned  upon  his  axe.  "I  couldn't 
have  stopped  him,  and  I  don't  think  you  need  worry.  The 
cold  is  scarcely  likely  to  hurt  him — he's  used  to  it.  He  is 
probably  three  or  four  leagues  away  down  the  trail  by 
now." 

"That  isn't  very  far." 

"It's  tolerably  good  travelling  in  this  country.  Besides, 
nobody  except  Sewell  and  Ingleby  has  the  faintest  notion 
that  he  was  here." 

Hetty  appeared  reflective.  "I  wasn't  quite  sure  about 
261 


262  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

•the  corporal  that  night.  He's  too  quiet  and  has^eyes  all 
over  him.  Still,  I  suppose  Tomlinson  has  got  away — of 
course,  he  must  have  done  so.  His  running  away  would 
look  very  bad  if  they  did  get  hold  of  him.  Isn't  that  kettle 
boiling,  Tom?" 

Leger  stooped  above  the  fire,  and  then,  straightening 
himself,  suddenly  stood  still  listening.  He  could  hear  the 
sound  of  the  rapid,  and  nothing  else  for  a  moment  or  two, 
until  a  crackle  of  undergrowth  came  out  of  the  gloom  below. 
Then  there  was  a  tramp  of  footsteps  coming  up  the  trail, 
and  Hetty  turned  to  him  sharply. 

"Tom,"  she  said,  with  a  little  gasp,  "who  can  it  be?" 

Leger  laid  down  the  kettle  he  held  in  his  hand.  "The 
troopers,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said. 

The  light  was  growing  clearer,  and  they  could  see  each 
other's  faces.  Hetty's  was  flushed  and  apprehensive, 
Legers  portentously  quiet. 

"They've  come  for  Tomlinson,"  she  said.  "Tom,  do 
you  know  why  he  threw  Probyn  in  the  creek?" 

"I  fancy  I  could  guess.  Tomlinson,  however,  never 
mentioned  it." 

"He  wouldn't,"  and  Hetty  gasped  again.  "Tom,  I'll 
never  forgive  you  if  you  let  the  troopers  know  anything 
about  him." 

"I  really  don't  think  that  was  necessary,"  said  Leger, 
with  a  faint,  dry  smile. 

Hetty  clenched  one  hand  tight.  "Oh,"  she  said,  "can't 
we  run  away?" 

Leger  turned  and  pointed  to  a  shadowy  figure  that  ma- 
terialized out  of  the  gloom  among  the  trees  below.  There 
were  others  behind  it,  and  the  two  stood  still  watching 
them  as  they  came  quickly  up  the  trail.  Then  they  stopped 
at  a  sharp  word,  and  a  man  in  a  big  fur-coat  stepped  for- 
ward. Hetty  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  him  as 
Esmond. 


THE  OBVIOUS  THING  263 

"Are  you  willing  to  tell  me  where  Prospector  Tomlinson 
is?    It  would  be  the  wisest  thing,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  think  that  is  quite  the  point,"  answered  Leger 
quietly.    "You  see,  I  don't  know." 

"Then  I'll  ask  you  where  he  went  when  he  left  here  last 
night?" 

"You  fancy  he  was  here?" 

Esmond  made  a  little  sign  of  impatience.  "I  should 
like  to  warn  you  that  a  good  deal  depends  upon  the  way 
you  answer  me.  You  probably  know  that  the  person  who 
hides  a  murderer  or  connives  at  his  escape  is  liable  to  be 
tried  as  an  accessory." 

Leger  stood  silent  a  moment  or  two.  It  seemed  rather 
more  than  probable  that  Esmond  had  only  supposed  it 
likely  that  Tomlinson  had  visited  the  bakery ;  but  that  did 
not  greatly  matter  after  all.  His  course  was  clear,  and 
that  was  to  allow  the  officer  to  believe  as  long  as  possible 
that  Tomlinson  was  in  the  vicinity.  Every  minute  gained 
would  be  worth  a  good  deal  to  the  fugitive. 

"I  scarcely  think  I  need  worry  myself  about  that,"  he 
said.  "You  see,  before  you  could  charge  me  as  an  acces- 
sory you  would  have  to  prove  that  Tomlinson  really  killed 
Probyn.  It's  tolerably  clear  that  you  can't  have  a  trial 
without  a  prisoner,  and  I  don't  mind  admitting  that  Tom- 
linson isn't  here." 

Esmond  smiled  unpleasantly,  and  signed  to  one  of  the 
troopers,  who  went  into  the  shanty.  "He  certainly  isn't 
very  far  away.  I  have  no  doubt  you  could  tell  me  where 
he  would  make  for;  but  you  do  not  seem  to  know  that  he 
was  shot,  and,  we  have  reason  to  believe,  badly  wounded 
within  a  league  of  your  house  last  night." 

It  was  growing  light  now,  and  he  saw  the  sudden  horror 
in  Hetty's  eyes. 

"If  you  have  any  control  over  your  brother,  Miss  Leger, 
I  think  it  would  be  wise  for  you  to  use  it,"  he  said.  "You 
would  not  like  him  to  get  himself  into  trouble?" 


264  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Hetty  straightened  herself  a  little.  "If  he  knew  where 
Tomlinson  was  and  told  you,  I'd  be  ashamed  of  him  for- 
ever— but  he  doesn't,"  she  said. 

Esmond  glanced  at  her  sharply.  She  stood  very  straight, 
regarding  him  with  a  set,  white  face,  and  it  was  evident 
that  she  was  resolute.    Then  he  turned  to  Leger. 

"Are  you  willing  to  expose  your  sister  to  a  very  serious 
charge?"  he  asked.  * 

Again  Leger  stood  silent,  but  when  he  glanced  at  her  a 
little  flash  showed  in  Hetty's  eyes. 

"You  daren't  disgrace  us  both.  Kemember,  it  was  all 
my  fault,"  she  said. 

Then  Leger  turned  to  the  officer.  "I  do  not  know  where 
Tomlinson  is.    That  is  all  I  have  to  tell  you." 

Esmond  raised  his  hand.  "Then  I  arrest  you  both  for 
concealing  Prospector  Tomlinson  and  contriving  his  escape. 
You  will  hand  them  over  to  Robertson  at  the  outpost, 
Trooper  Grieve,  and  then  come  on  after  us  as  fast  as  you 
can.  I  don't  wish  to  submit  either  of  you  to  any  indignity. 
Leger,  unless  you  are  likely  to  make  it  necessary." 

Leger's  face  turned  crimson,  but  he  made  a  little  sign 
of  comprehension.  "We  will  make  no  attempt  to  get 
away." 

Esmond  signed  to  the  trooper,  who  pointed  somewhat 
shamefacedly  to  the  shadowy  path  among  the  pines  as  he 
swung  his  carbine  to  the  trail.  Then  Hetty  and  Leger 
moved  on  in  front  of  him,  while  Esmond  and  the  others 
vanished  into  the  bush.  It  was  almost  daylight  now,  and 
the  troopers  spent  some  time  tracing  Tomlin  son's  footsteps 
between  the  trunks.  They  also  found  the  thicket  where  he 
had  flung  himself  down,  but  that,  after  all,  told  them  very 
little,  and  both  the  bye-trail  and  the  larger  one  were 
tramped  too  hard  for  his  worn-out  boots  to  leave  any 
recognizable  impression. 

It  was,  however,  evident  that  Tomlinson  could  have 
adopted  only  one  of  two  courses.    If  he  had  escaped  unin- 


THE  OBVIOUS  THING  265 

jured  he  would  certainly  head  for  the  settlements  along  the 
beaten  trail,  down  which  a  trooper  had  been  sent  already; 
but  no  wounded  man  could  face  that  arduous  journey, 
and  assuming  that  the  corporal's  shot  had  taken  effect, 
he  would,  as  a  matter  of  course,  be  lurking  somewhere  in 
the  valley.  In  that  case  the  trailing  of  him  could  only  be 
a  question  of  a  day  or  two,  for  even  if  he  could  face  the 
bitter  frost  in  the  open  he  must  have  food,  and  there  would 
be  no  difficulty  in  tracing  the  footsteps  of  any  one  who 
brought  it  to  him.  The  one  question  was  whether  Tomlin- 
son  was  badly  hurt,  and  as  the  corporal,  who  fancied  so, 
could  not  be  quite  sure,  Esmond  pushed  on  southwards 
along  the  trail.  If  Tomlinson  had  not  headed  in  that  direc- 
tion he  was  in  the  valley,  and,  if  so,  he  certainly  could  not 
get  away. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  just  then  lying  weak  from 
loss  of  blood  in  a  little,  decrepit  shanty  on  an  abandoned 
claim.  He  had  contrived  to  reach  one  of  the  miners'  dwell- 
ings late  the  previous  night,  though  he  was  never  quite  sure 
how  he  accomplished  it,  and  fell  in  across  the  threshold 
when  its  astonished  owner  opened  the  door.  The  man, 
however,  kept  his  head,  and  within  an  hour  Tomlinson  was 
carried  to  the  claim  in  one  of  the  more  distant  gorges,  where 
it  appeared  a  little  less  likely  that  Esmond  would  lay  hands 
on  him.  Now  he  was  huddled  half-sensible,  in  his  blanket 
upon  a  pile  of  cedar  twigs,  with  Ingleby  and  a  young 
American,  who  had  just  dug  out  a  carbine-bullet  which  had 
badly  smashed  his  shoulder-blade,  sitting  by  his  side.  In- 
gleby did  not  know  whether  his  companion  was  a  quali- 
fied surgeon ;  but  he  had,  at  least,  contrived  to  cut  out  the 
bullet  and  stanch  the  wound.  He  appeared  a  trifle  anxious 
about  his  patient. 

"The  shock  would  have  dropped  a  man  raised  in  the 
cities  right  off,  but  I  think  we'll  pull  him  round,"  he  said. 
"Still,  it's  not  going  to  be  done  in  a  day  or  two." 

The  fact  was  very  evident,  and  Ingleby  nodded.    "How 


266  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

long  do  you  think  it  will  be  before  lie  can  walk  again?"  he 
said. 

"A  month,  anyway,  and  quite  likely  six  weeks;  that  is, 
before  you  could  let  him  start  out  on  the  trail.  I  don't 
quite  know  what  we're  going  to  do  with  him  in  the  mean- 
while." 

Tomlinson,  who  appeared  to  understand  him,  looked  up 
with  his  face  awry. 

"You're  not  going  to  do  anything,"  he  said  half -coher- 
ently. "I'll  give  myself  up.  I  can't  stay  here  and  make 
trouble  for  the  boys." 

"You  go  to  sleep !"  said  the  other  man  severely,  and 
made  a  little  sign  to  Ingleby,  who  sat  silent  for  a  minute 
or  two  after  Tomlinson  sank  back  again  on  the  twigs. 

"That's  just  the  point,"  he  said.  "The  boys  don't  mean 
to  let  the  police  have  him  ?" 

"No,"  and  Ingleby's  manner  suggested  that  the  subject 
was  not  worth  discussion.  "They  wouldn't  think  of  it  for 
a  minute.  I'd  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  them  if  they 
did." 

The  American  nodded.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  can  pull  the 
man  round,  but  I'm  not  going  to  answer  for  what  will 
happen  if  the  troopers  get  hold  of  him.  He's  tough,  but 
he  wants  looking  after,  and  there's  no  one  at  the  outpost 
knows  more  than  enough  to  pull  a  stone  out  of  a  cayuse's 
hoof." 

"You  can  take  out  a  bullet,  anyway,"  said  Ingleby  sug- 
gestively. 

"Oh  yes.  I'd  have  had  quite  a  nice  practice  by  this 
time  if  it  had  been  convenient  for  me  to  stay  in  Connecti- 
cut.   As  it  happened,  it  wasn't." 

Ingleby  looked  at  him  steadily.  "Tomlinson,"  he  said, 
"is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  that,  of  course,  implies  an  obliga- 
tion. You,  so  far  as  I  know,  have  had  very  little  to  do 
with  him,  and  it  seems  only  reasonable  to  warn  you  that 


THE  OBVIOUS  THING  26*7 

you  may  get  yourself  into  serious  trouble  by  looking  after 
him.    The  law  is  generally  carried  out  in  our  country." 

The  American  laughed.  "I  can  take  my  chances.  I'm 
not  going  back  on  a  sick  man,  anyway." 

They  said  nothing  more  for  awhile  until  a  man  who  had 
apparently  been  running  came  in. 

"Where's  Sewell?"  he  gasped. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Ingleby.  "He  wasn't  at  home 
this  morning.    Most  likely  he's  looking  for  a  deer." 

"Then  I  guess  you'll  have  to  do.  Esmond  has  trailed 
Tomlinson  to  the  bakery.  He  has  got  Hetty  and  Tom 
Leger  at  the  outpost  now." 

Ingleby  rose  suddenly  to  his  feet.    "You're  quite  sure?" 

"Well,"  said  the  other,  "I  guess  I  ought  to  be.  I  met 
them.  Trooper  Grieve  didn't  stop  their  talking,  and  they 
told  me.  Esmond  tried  to  bluff  where  Tomlinson  was  out 
of  them,  and  the}T're  to  stand  in  with  him  as  accessories." 

It  was  evident  to  Ingleby  that  since  Sewell  was  away  a 
heavy  responsibility  devolved  upon  him  as  a  friend  of  Tom- 
linson and  Leger.  He  was  expected  to  do  something,  and, 
as  usual,  he  did  the  obvious  thing  without  counting  what 
it  would  cost  him. 

"Where  is  Esmond?"  he  asked. 

"Hitting  the  trail  to  the  settlements  all  he's  worth," 
said  the  other  man. 

"Then  go  round  and  let  the  boys  know  what  you  have 
told  me.  They  can  meet  outside  Ransom e's  shanty.  The 
dinner-hour  will  do.     I'll  be  there  to  meet  them." 

The  man  went  out,  and  at  the  time  appointed  Ingleby 
stood  outside  a  little  hut  of  bark  and  logs  with  a  crowd  of 
bronze-faced  men  about  him.  They  were  somewhat  silent, 
but  their  manner  was  quietly  resolute.  It  suggested  that 
their  minds  were  made  up  and  that  they  were  only  wait- 
ing for  a  leader  in  whom  they  had  confidence.  Ingleby 
had  gained  their  liking,  but  he  was  young,  and  they  were 
not  quite  sure  whether  he  would  be  the  man  or  whether 


268  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

they  must  choose  another.  In  the  meanwhile  they  were 
willing  to  give  him  a  hearing.  It  was  evident  that  he  was 
equal  to  the  occasion  when  he  stepped  forward  and  looked 
at  them  with  steady  eyes. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  "do  any  of  you  believe  Tomlinson  killed 
Trooper  Probyn?" 

There  was  a  general  murmur  of  dissent,  and  Ingleby 
made  a  little  sign  of  concurrence.  "Are  you  willing  to  let 
the  troopers  have  him?  You  must  remember  that  the 
thing  looks  bad  against  him,  and  he  will  not  be  tried  by 
you." 

The  murmurs  were  articulate  now,  and  it  was  very  clear 
that  not  a  man  there  had  the  least  intention  of  giving  up 
Tomlinson. 

"Then  it  should  be  quite  plain  that  you  will  have  to 
keep  the  troopers  from  him.  It  is  only  a  question  of  a  day 
or  two  at  the  longest  before  they  trail  him.  They  may  do 
it  to-night.  Esmond  will  very  soon  find  out  that  he  isn't 
pushing  on  in  front  of  him  for  the  settlements." 

A  big  man  stood  forward,  and  glanced  at  the  rest. 
"There's  not  a  trooper  in  this  valley  going  to  lay  hands 
on  Tomlinson." 

Again  the  murmurs  rose  portentously,  and  Ingleby 
smiled. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "since  the  trouble  can't  be  shuffled  off, 
we  may  as  well  face  it  now.  We  have  got  to  make  a  stand 
and  maintain  it  until  Esmond  finds  he  has  to  humour  us. 
He  has  Leger  and  his  sister  in  the  outpost.  Do  you  know 
any  reason  why  we  shouldn't  take  them  out?" 

"I  guess  not,"  said  the  man  who  had  spoken  already. 
"  Still,  if  there's  any  shooting,  two  or  three  of  us  are  going 
to  smell  trouble  as  well  as  Tomlinson." 

"There  will  not  be  any,"  said  Ingleby.  "Esmond  has 
only  two  men  at  the  outpost.  Nobody  wants  to  hurt  them. 
The  thing  can  be  done  without  it.  In  fact,  that's  essential. 
I  want  three  or  four  determined  men." 


THE  OBVIOUS  THING  269 

They  were  forthcoming,  but  one  of  the  rest  asked  a 
question. 

"Have  you  figured  what's  going  to  happen  when  Esmond 
comes  back?"  he  said. 

"I  have,"  said  Ingleby.  "He  will  have  a  handful  of 
tolerably  active  men  under  his  orders  then,  but  only  a  hand- 
ful, after  all.  Now,  the  outpost's  outside  the  canon,  and 
there's  a  spot  where  a  log  barricade  would  effectively  block 
the  trail.  The  troopers  will  have  to  be  kept  outside  it  until 
we  can  arrive  at  a  compromise.  Esmond  will  probably 
make  it.  It  would  be  two  months,  anyway,  before  he  could 
get  more  troopers  in,  and  if  there's  another  heavy  snowfall 
it  mightn't  be  done  till  spring." 

Xone  of  those  who  listened  could  find  fault  with  the 
scheme.  It  was  evidently  workable,  and  they  had  already 
decided  that  Tomlinson  was  not  to  be  given  up  at  any  cost. 
That,  as  Ingleby  had  pointed  out,  would  necessarily  involve 
them  in  difficulties  with  the  police.  There  was  thus  very 
little  further  discussion,  and  the  men  went  back,  a  trifle 
thoughtfully,  to  their  work  until  the  evening. 

It  seemed  to  most  of  them  a  long  while  coming,  and  to 
none  of  them  slower  than  it  did  to  Hetty  Leger,  who  sat 
with  her  brother  in  a  very  little,  log-walled  room  at  the  out- 
post as  dusk  was  closing  down.  Tom  Leger,  glancing  at  her 
as  she  sat  huddled  in  a  chair  by  the  window,  fancied  that 
she  was  crying. 

"Why  did  we  come  here,  Tom?"  she  said.  "Every- 
thing has  gone  wrong  since  we  left  Vancouver." 

"The  outlook  certainly  isn't  very  cheerful  just  now," 
said  Leger,  with  a  rueful  smile.  "  Still,  after  all,  you  made 
a  good  many  dollars  at  the  bakery,  and  my  claim  is  doing 
well.  Ingleby  will  see  that  while  I'm  kept  here  the  work 
is  carried  on.  One  can  put  up  with  a  good  deal  of  incon- 
venience when  he's  washing  out  gold-dust." 

" Dollars !"  said  Hetty.  "And  gold-dust !  Is  there  noth- 
ing else  worth  having?" 


2*70  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Well,"  said  Leger  drily,  "when  you  have  no  prospect 
of  getting  it,  it's  as  well  to  content  oneself  with  dollars. 
If  I  remember  rightly  you  used  to  think  a  good  deal  of  a 
shilling  in  England." 

Hetty  glanced  at  him  sharply  with  hazy  eyes.  "What  do 
you  mean  by — no  prospect  of  getting  it?" 

"I  don't  quite  know.  You  suggested  the  notion.  Any- 
way, I  scarcely  think  Esmond  can  make  out  very  much  of 
a  case  against  us.  He  doesn't  really  know  that  Tomlinson 
was  at  the  bakery." 

"It  isn't  that  that's  worrying  me.  It's — everything," 
said  Hetty. 

"I  don't  think  you  need  cry  over  Tomlinson.  The  boys 
will  take  care  of  him." 

"I  wasn't  crying  about  Tomlinson.  In  fact,  I'm  not 
sure  I  was  crying  at  all.    Still,  you  see,  it  was  all  my  fault." 

Leger  smiled  whimsically.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  scarcely 
think  that  should  afford  you  any  great  satisfaction,  though 
it  almost  seems  to  do  so.  No  doubt  it's  part  of  a  girl's 
nature  to  make  trouble  of  the  kind." 

Hetty  closed  one  hand.  "I'm  going  to  be  angry  in  a 
minute.  That's  not  the  way  to  talk  to  any  one  who's 
feeling — what  I  am  just  now." 

Leger  rose  and  patted  her  shoulder.  "I'd  sooner  see 
you  raging  than  looking  as  you  do.  Shake  the  mood  off, 
Hetty.    It  isn't  in  the  least  like  you." 

Hetty  said  nothing  but  turned  from  him  and  looked  out 
of  the  little  window.  A  young  trooper  was  leaning  over 
the  rude  balustrade  of  the  veranda,  and  beyond  him  the 
sombre  pines  rolled  down  the  darkening  valley.  Night  had 
not  quite  fallen  yet,  though  a  half-moon  that  showed  red 
and  frosty  was  growing  brighter  above  the  ^vhite  shoulder 
of  a  hill.  Another  trooper  was  apparently  busy  in  the 
adjoining  room,  for  they  could  hear  his  footsteps  as  he 
moved,  but  that  was  the  only  sound.  Then  a  face  rose 
suddenly  into  sight  above  the  floor  of  the  veranda  where 


THE  OBVIOUS  THING  271 

the  trooper  could  not  see  it.  It  was  a  horrible,  grey  face, 
and  Hetty  shrank  back,  while  her  chair  grated  harshly  on 
the  floor.  In  another  moment  Tom  Leger's  hand  closed 
tightly  on  her  arm. 

"Keep  still!"  he  said.  "It's  a  masked  man.  I  fancy 
the  boys  have  come  for  us." 

Hetty  looked  again,  and  saw  that  a  strip  of  deer-hide 
with  holes  cut  in  it  was  tied  across  the  face.  Then  she  be- 
came sensible  that  there  was  something  suggestively  famil- 
iar in  the  attitude  of  the  man  who,  moving  noiselessly, 
raised  himself  erect  and  stood  watching  the  trooper,  whose 
back  was  towards  him. 

"Oh,"  she  gasped,  "it's  Walter!" 

"Be  quiet!"  said  Leger,  and  the  grasp  upon  her  arm 
grew  tighter. 

Another  face  appeared  between  the  rails,  but  the  first 
man  had  already  swung  one  leg  over  them,  and  in  another 
moment  he  sprang  forward  along  the  veranda.  The  trooper 
heard  him  and  swung  round,  but  even  as  he  did  so  the  new- 
comer fluDg  his  arms  about  him  and  they  reeled  together 
down  the  little  stairway.  Then  the  second  trooper  flung 
open  the  door,  but  as  he  ran  out  of  it  two  or  three  men 
who  had  apparently  crept  into  the  veranda  grappled  with 
him,  and  Hetty  could  hear  them  tumbling  up  and  down 
the  adjoining  room.  Then  there  was  a  brief  silence  until 
somebody  burst  open  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  she  was 
shut.  A  masked  man  who  strode  in  grasped  her  shoulder, 
and  she  struggled  vainly  as  he  drew  her  towards  the  door. 

"I  won't  go.  It  will  only  get  you  into  worse  trouble," 
she  said. 

The  man  laughed.  "If  I  had  to  face  it  all  my  life,  do 
you  think  I  would  leave  you  here?" 

Hetty  recognized  the  tension  in  his  voice,  and  something 
that  seemed  to  answer  it  thrilled  in  her ;  but  she  still  pro- 
tested, and  the  man,  who  flung  an  arm  about  her  waist, 


272  DELILAH    OF   THE    SNOWS 

swung  her  off  her  feet.  He  did  not  let  her  go  until  he  set 
her  down,  flushed  and  gasping,  among  the  pines  outside. 

Then  she  laughed.  "I'm  not  sure  you  could  have  done 
that  in  England,  Walter." 

"No,"  said  Ingleby.  "Anyway,  you  wouldn't  have  let 
me,  but  we  can't  stop  to  talk  now.  Esmond  may  come 
back  at  any  time,  and  there  is  a  good  deal  to  do."  He 
turned  from  her  suddenly.  "You  have  got  those  fellows' 
carbines  ?" 

"Oh  yes,"  said  another  man.  "We'd  better  bring  along 
their  cartridges  and  heave  them  in  the  river  too.  We 
haven't  hurt  either  of  them  much,  considering." 

Ingleby  signed  to  the  rest,  though  he  still  held  Hetty's 
arm.  "Now,"  he  said,  "the  sooner  we  light  out  of  this 
the  better  it  will  be  for  everybody." 


XXVII 

THE  BLOCKADE 

HP  HE  moon  was  high  above  the  white  peaks,  and  a  sting- 
ing  frost  was  in  the  air,  when  Ingleby  and  Leger 
sat  a  little  apart  from  a  snapping  fire  behind  a  great  red- 
wood trunk  that  had  been  felled  across  the  trail  in  the  con- 
stricted entrance  to  the  canon.  It  was  wide  of  girth,  and 
lay  supported  on  the  stumps  of  several  splintered  branches 
breast-high  above  the  soil,  with  the  rest  of  its  spreading 
limbs  piled  about  it  in  tremendous  ruin.  On  the  side  where 
the  fire  was  some  of  them  had  been  hewn  away,  and  a  hand- 
ful of  men  lounged  smoking  in  the  hollow  between  them 
and  the  trunk.  Another  man  stood  upon  the  tree,  ap- 
parently looking  down  the  valley,  with  his  figure  cutting 
blackly  against  the  blueness  of  the  night. 

Sewell  leaned  against  a  shattered  branch  a  few  feet  away 
from  Ingleby,  gazing  about  him  reflectively.  He  noticed 
that  the  great  butt  of  the  fir  was  jammed  against  the 
slope  of  rock  that  ran  up  overhead,  too  steep  almost  for 
the  snow  to  rest  upon  it,  and  that  the  top  of  the  tree  was 
in  the  river  some  twenty  yards  away.  The  stream  frothed 
and  roared  about  it  in  a  wild  white  rapid,  though  long 
spears  of  crackling  ice  stretched  out  behind  the  boulders, 
and  there  was  a  tremendous  wall  of  rock  on  the  farther 
side.  It  was  absolutely  unscalable,  and  from  the  crest  of  it 
ranks  of  clinging  pines  rolled  backwards  up  a  slope  that  was 
almost  as  steep. 

It  was  evident  that  nobodv  coming  from  the  police  out- 

273 


274  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

post  or  the  commissioner's  dwelling  could  approach  the 
fallen  tree  except  by  the  trail  in  front,  and  on  that  side 
the  branches  formed  an  entanglement  an  agile  man  would 
have  some  difficulty  in  scrambling  through,  even  if  nobody 
desired  to  prevent  him,  while  two  or  three  of  the  men  beside 
the  fire  had  rifles  with  them.  The  rest  had  axes.  Sewell, 
who  noticed  all  this,  glanced  towards  them  thoughtfully. 
He  could  not  see  their  faces,  but  their  silence  had  its  sig- 
nificance, and  there  was  a  vague  suggestion  of  resolution 
in  their  attitudes.  Most  of  them  were  men  of  singularly 
unyielding  temperament,  who  had  grappled  with  hard  rock 
and  primeval  forest  from  their  youth  up. 

"It  is  a  tolerably  strong  position,  and  it's  the  strength 
of  it  that  particularly  pleases  me,"  he  said.  "If  there 
were  any  prospect  of  his  getting  in  Esmond  would  no  doubt 
try  it.  As  it  is,  he  will  probably  find  -it  advisable  to  stop 
outside  and  compromise." 

"I'm  glad  you're  satisfied,"  said  Leger.  "Still,  it's  a 
little  unfortunate  you  were  not  here  this  morning.  In 
that  case  we  might  have  found  some  other  means  of  getting 
over  the  difficulty,  though  I'm  not  sure  that  there  was 
any." 

Ingleby  glanced  sharply  at  Leger.  His  face  was  clear 
in  the  moonlight,  and  it  was  expressionless,  but  his  tone 
had  been  suggestively  dry,  and  for  just  a  moment  an  un- 
pleasant fancy  flashed  upon  Ingleby.  It  was  certainly  un- 
fortunate that  Sewell,  whom  everybody  looked  to  for  guid- 
ance, had  been  away  that  day,  and  the  fact  might  have 
had  significance  for  any  one  who  doubted  him.  Ingleby, 
however,  had  unshaken  confidence  in  the  man  and  thrust 
the  thought  from  him.  Sewell  smiled  as  he  turned  to 
Leger. 

"I  was  looking  for  a  deer,"  he  said.  "Anywa}r,  you  had 
Ingleby." 

"Ingleby,"  said  Leger,  "is  usually  where  he's  wanted. 
Some  men  have  that  habit.    It's  a  useful  one,  though  I'm 


THE  BLOCKADE  275 

afraid  I  haven't  acquired  it.  In  fact,  I  fancy  I'm  rather 
like  Trooper  Probyn.  He  was  addicted  to  turning  up  just 
when  it  would  have  been  better  for  everybody  if  he  had 
stayed  away." 

He  turned  from  them  somewhat  abruptly  and  strolled 
towards  the  men  about  the  fire,  while  Sewell  looked 
thoughtful  as  he  filled  his  pipe. 

"Leger  doesn't  appear  to  be  in  a  particularly  pleasant 
mood,  but  he's  right  in  one  respect,"  he  said.  "It  would 
have  been  a  good  deal  better  if  he  and  Hetty  had  been 
anywhere  else  when  Esmond  turned  up  at  the  bakery.  Of 
course,  they  couldn't  help  it,  but  the  result  of  it  is  going 
to  be  serious.  ,  It  is  not  exactly  convenient  that  the  thing 
should  have  happened  now." 

Ingleby  made  a  gesture  of  comprehension  as  he  glanced 
towards  the  men  about  the  fire.  Their  big  axes  gleamed 
suggestively,  and  the  rifle  of  the  man  upon  the  tree  twinkled 
coldly  where  the  moonlight  rested  on  the  line  of  barrel. 

"It's  all  of  it  unfortunate,"  he  said  deprecatingly.  "I 
suppose  I'm  responsible — but  I  don't  quite  see  what  else 
anybody  could  have  expected  me  to  do.  I  couldn't  leave 
Hetty  in  Esmond's  hands.  It  was  out  of  the  question.  The 
police  wouldn't  have  much  difficulty  in  making  her  out  an 
accessory." 

Sewell  smiled.    "That  was  all  that  occurred  to  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ingleby.  "I  think  so.  I  don't  seem  to  re- 
member anything  else.    Anyway,  it  was  sufficient." 

He  made  a  little  forceful  gesture  which  suggested  even 
more  plainly  than  what  he  said  that  the  thought  of  leaving 
Hetty  exposed  to  any  peril  was  intolerable. 

"And  you  inconsequently  decided  to  put  up  a  bluff  of 
this  kind  on  the  British  nation  because  Esmond  might  in- 
volve in  difficulties  a  girl  with  whom  you  are  not  in  love. 
I'm  presuming  you  are  not  in  love  with  her?" 

Ingleby  seemed  a  trifle  disconcerted.  "No,"  he  said 
sharply.    "  Of  course  I'm  not.    What  made  you  suggest  it  ?" 


276  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Sewell  laughed.  "Well,"  he  said,  "for  one  thing,  if  you 
had  been  in  love  with  her,  you  could  scarcely  have  done 
anything  that  would  have  made  the  fact  clearer." 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  Ingleby  leaned 
upon  the  tree  with  his  thoughts  in  confusion.  He  was  not 
in  love  with  Hetty  Leger,  but  it  was  certainly  a  fact  that 
her  arrest  had  filled  him  with  an  almost  unaccountable 
consternation.  He  also  remembered  the  curious  little  laugh 
with  which  she  had  clung  to  him,  and  that  it  had  stirred 
him  as  no  trifling  favour  Grace  Coulthurst  had  ever  shown 
him  had  done.  The  commissioner's  daughter  had,  however, 
certainly  never  leaned  upon  his  shoulder  with  her  arms 
about  him,  though  he  had  on  one  occasion,  when  she  was 
half-frozen,  practically  carried  her  into  her  father's  dwell- 
ing. The  thought  of  it  was,  in  a  curious  fashion,  almost 
distasteful,  as  well  as  preposterous.  His  regard  for  her 
was  largely  that  of  a  devotee,  an  aesthetic  respect  which 
would  have  made  any  display  of  purely  human  proclivities 
on  the  part  of  the  goddess  a  trifle  disconcerting. 

There 'are  men  like  Ingleby  whose  life  is,  partly  from 
inclination  and  partly  from  force  of  circumstances,  in  some 
respects  one  of  puritanical  simplicity,  especially  in  the 
hack  blocks  of  England's  colonies ;  and,  startled  by  Sewell's 
suggestion,  he  tried  to  reason  with  himself  as  he  leaned 
against  the  tree.  He  remembered  now  how  he  had  thrilled 
to  the  girl's  touch  as,  half-crying  and  half-laughing,  she 
had  rested  in  his  arms  a  few  hours  ago,  and  he  could  not 
admit  the  almost  unpleasant  explanation  that  this  was 
because  they  were  man  and  woman.  Still,  he  had  felt  her 
heart  beating  upon  his  breast,  and  something  in  his  nature 
had,  it  seemed  to  him,  awakened  and  throbbed  in  response 
to  it.  It  was,  he  felt,  not  sensual  passion ;  it  was  not  love, 
since  it  was  Grace  Coulthurst  he  loved ;  and  his  confusion 
grew  more  confounded  as  he  vainly  strove  to  classify  it. 
Ingleby,  as  one  who  did  the  obvious  thing,  and  was  usually 
doing  something  unless  he  was  asleep,  had  seldom  been 


THE  BLOCKADE  277 

led  into  any  attempt  to  unravel  the  complexities  of  human 
thought  and  emotion.  Men  of  his  temperament  are  as  a 
rule  too  busy  for  anything  of  the  kind.  It  is  material  facts 
that  interest  them,  and  their  achievements  are  usually  ap- 
parent and  substantial,  written  in  that  country  on  hard 
rock  and  forest  or  on  the  orchards  and  wheatfields  that 
smile  where  the  wilderness  has  been. 

"Well?"  said  Sewell  at  length. 

Ingleby  made  a  little  gesture.  "The  thing  is  done. 
Why  I  did  it  doesn't,  after  all,  greatly  matter.  We  have 
the  results  of  it  to  face  just  now." 

"Precisely!  That's  why  I'm  pleased  you  chose  a  very 
convenient  spot  to  chop  the  tree  in.  There's  one  of  them 
becoming  apparent  already." 

He  pointed  across  the  fallen  log,  and  the  man  who  stood 
upon  it  made  a  little  sign.  The  tree  was  in  the  shadow, 
but  beyond  it  lay  a  narrow  strip  of  moonlit  snow,  upon 
which  the  dusky  pines  closed  in  again.  A  man  moved  out 
into  the  strip,  walking  cautiously,  and  carrying  a  carbine. 
He  stopped  abruptly,  dropping  the  butt  of  it  with  a  little 
thud,  and,  turning  his  head,  he  apparently  glanced  at  some- 
body behind  him. 

"They've  chopped  a  big  tree  right  across  the  trail,"  he 
said. 

His  voice  rang  clearly  through  the  nipping  air,  and  In- 
gleby almost  envied  him  as  he  stood  unconcernedly  still,  a 
dusky,  motionless  object,  with  a  blacker  shadow  projected 
in  front  of  him  on  the  gleaming  snow.  He,  at  least,  had 
no  responsibility,  and  was  there  to  do  what  he  was  bidden, 
while  the  law  would  hold  him  guiltless.  The  brief  and 
decisive  attempt  on  the  outpost  had  scarcely  given  Ingleby 
cause  for  thought,  but  it  was  different  now.  There  was 
nothing  exhilarating  in  standing  still  and  wondering  what 
course  the  police  would  take,  while  other  men  have  felt 
misgivings  when  brought  face  to  face  with  constituted  au- 
thority with  arms  in  its  hand. 


278  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

Sewell  in  the  meanwhile  moved  quietly  towards  the  fire. 

"You  will  leave  this  thing  to  me,  hoys,"  he  said.  "Above 
all,  keep  your  hands  off  those  rifles.  It's  a  bluff  we're 
putting  up." 

By  this  time  several  other  men  had  moved  out  upon  the 
strip  of  snow,  and  one  who  came  up  from  behind  walked 
past  them  and  stopped  not  far  from  the  tree.  Ingleby 
could  see  his  face  in  the  moonlight,  and  recognized  him  a.s 
Esmond.  He  looked  up  at  the  man  who,  though  he  had 
handed  his  rifle  to  a  comrade,  still  stood  upon  the  log  re- 
garding him  quietly. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what  are  you  doing  there?" 

"  Seeing  that  nobody  gets  over,"  was  the  uncompromising 
answer. 

Esmond  laughed,  as  though  he  had  partly  expected  this. 
"There  are  no  doubt  more  of  you  behind  there.  If  you 
have  one,  I  would  prefer  to  talk  to  your  recognized  leader." 

Sewell  sprang  up  upon  the  tree.  "I  think  I  can  venture 
to  claim  my  comrades'  confidence,"  he  said.  "In  any  case, 
I  am  quite  willing  to  accept  the  responsibility  for  anything 
that  has  been  done." 

"You  may  be  asked  to  remember  that,"  said  Esmond 
drily.    "Do  you  mind  explaining  why  you  felled  this  tree  ?" 

"I  think  the  man  who  answered  you  already  made  that 
clear.  To  prevent  anybody's  getting  over.  Once  you 
recognize  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  do  it  without  our 
permission,  we'll  go  a  little  further." 

"Then  you  are  deliberately  placing  obstacles  in  the  my 
of  the  police  carrying  out  their  duty?  I  warn  you  that  it 
may  turn  out  a  serious  matter." 

Sewell  laughed.  "I'm  not  sure  the  question  is  a  very 
happy  one.  It  is  rather  too  suggestive  of  Monday  morning 
in  England.  Still,  I  suppose  what  we  mean  to  do  amounts 
to  that,  although  we  will  have  pleasure  in  permitting  you 
to  enter  the  valley  when  you  wish,  on  one  or  two  perfectly 
reasonable  conditions." 


THE  BLOCKADE  279 

"It  remains  to  be  seen  whether  you  can  keep  us  out." 
Esmond  raised  his  voice  a  trifle.  "Climb  up  on  that  log, 
Trooper  Grieve,  and  let  me  know  who  Prospector  Sewell 
has  with  him,"  he  said.  "You  have  authority  to  fire  on 
anybody  who  tries  to  prevent  you." 

It  seemed  to  Ingleby  that  Esmond  had  displayed  a  good 
deal  of  tact.  He  was  aware  that  in  an  affair  of  the  kind 
the  right  start  counts  for  a  good  deal,  and  that  if  the 
miners  permitted  the  trooper  to  survey  their  position  it 
might  lead  to  an  unwished-for  change  in  their  attitude. 
If  they  did  not,  it  would  make  them  the  aggressors,  and 
there  was  the  further  difficulty  that  they  would  probably 
shrink  from  offering  violence  to  a  single  man. 

"The  trooper  must  not  be  hurt,  boys,  but  he  must  not 
get  up  on  the  log,"  he  said,  and  turned  to  Sewell  with  a 
little  gesture  of  deprecation. 

Sewell  nodded.  "You're  right — if  we  can  manage  it," 
he  said. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  young  trooper  was  walking  to- 
wards the  barrier.  Ingleby  surmised  that  he  had  no  great 
liking  for  his  task,  but  beyond  the  fact  that  he  was  holding 
himself  unusually  straight,  and  looking  steadfastly  in 
front  of  him,  he  showed  no  sign  of  it.  The  moonlight  was 
on  his  face,  and  it  was  almost  expressionless. 

"Stop  right  where  you  are,"  said  one  of  the  miners 
sharply.    "I  guess  you'd  better !" 

The  trooper  did  not  stop,  nor  did. he  answer.  If  he  had 
his  misgivings  as  a  human  being,  he  was  also  a  part  of  the 
great  system  by  which  his  nation's  work  is  done  and  its 
prestige  maintained;  and  he  went  on  with  stiff,  measured 
strides  which  suggested  the  movements  of  an  automaton. 
A  handful  of  men  behind  the  log,  and  another  handful 
standing  in  the  moonlight  on  the  gleaming  snow,  stood 
silently  watching  him,  and  most  of  them  felt  an  almost 
unpleasant  sense  of  tension. 

Then  he  came  to  the  branches,  and  stopped  a  moment, 


280  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

as  though  uncertain  what  to  do.  His  carbine  presented 
the  difficulty,  since  to  scramble  over  that  tangle  of  branches 
and  twigs  both  hands  would  be  necessary.  Then  he  slung 
it  behind  him,  and  every  one  could  hear  the  sharp  snap 
of  the  clip-hook  through  the  bitter  air.  After  that  there 
was  a  crash  as  he  plunged  into  a  maze  of  dusky  needles, 
and  he  was  gasping  when  he  emerged  again.  He  was, 
however,  still  coming  on,  crawling  over  branches,  swinging 
himself  under  some  of  them,  while  two  miners  waited  for 
him,  intent  and  strung  up,  behind  the  log.  When  he 
reached  it  the  top  of  the  bark  was  almost  level  with  his  head, 
and,  throwing  an  arm  upon  it,  he  essayed  to  draw  himself 
up.  At  the  same  moment  two  pairs  of  sinewy  hands  seized 
his  shoulders,  and  lifted  him  from  his  feet.  Then  there 
was  a  shout  and  a  swing,  and  he  was  hurled  backwards  like 
a  stone.  He  broke  through  the  shadowy  needles  amidst  a 
crash  of  snapped-off  twigs,  and  there  was  a  confused  floun- 
dering in  the  darkness  below.  Then  a  head  rose  out  of  it, 
and  the  trooper  stood  straight  in  the  moonlight  upon  the 
fork  of  a  great  limb,  looking  back  towards  his  officer  now. 

"Am  I  to  try  again,  sir?"  he  asked. 

There  was  a  burst  of  approving  laughter  from  the  miners, 
and  the  trooper  sprang  down  from  the  branch  and  moved 
towards  his  comrades  when  Esmond  made  a  sign,  while  a 
man  who  had  been  speaking  apart  with  the  latter  suddenly 
stepped  forward. 

"It's  the  major,"  said  one  of  the  miners.  "Give  him  a 
show.    Come  right  along,  sir.    Nobody  going  to  hurt  you !" 

Coulthurst  made  a  little  gesture  with  a  lifted  hand,  and 
his  remarks  were  brief. 

"You'll  gain  nothing  by  making  fools  of  yourselves,  my 
men,"  he  said.  "The  law  is  a  good  deal  too  strong  for 
you.  Now,  try  to  tell  me  sensibly  what  is  worrying  you, 
and  if  it  comes  within  my  business  I'll  see  what  I  can  do." 
.   Sewell  stood  up  upon  the  log,  and  took  off  his  big, 


THE  BLOCKADE  281 

shapeless  hat.  There  was  silence  for  a  moment  while  the 
major  looked  at  him. 

"Mr.  Sewell,"  he  said  gravely,  "I'm  sorry  to  see  you 
here." 

"I'm  a  little  sorry  myself,  sir,"  said  Sewell.  "Still, 
that's  not  quite  the  point,  and  if  you  will  listen  for  a  minute 
or  two  I  will  try  to  make  our  views  clear.  They  are  really 
not  unreasonable.  In  the  first  place  we  want  Tomlinson 
tried  here  by  his  peers,  which,  although  a  little  unusual, 
could,  I  think,  be  done.  If  Captain  Esmond  can  prove 
him  guilty,  we  will  give  him  up,  and  he  can  get  a  regular 
court  to  confirm  the  verdict.  Then  we  ask  immunity  for 
the  men  who  held  up  the  outpost,  and  one  or  two  trifling 
modifications  of  the  mining  regulations  which  are  probably 
within  the  discretion  afforded  you  by  your  commission." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Coulthurst  drily,  "that  you  are 
asking  a  good  deal.  More,  in  fact,  than  you  are  likely  to 
get.    You  insist  on  all  that?" 

"We  feel  compelled  to  do  so,  sir." 

Coulthurst  made  a  little  sign  and  moved  back  to  where 
Esmond  stood.  They  conferred  together,  and  the  major 
spoke  again. 

''Captain  Esmond  is  willing  to  promise  that  if  you  go 
home  straightway  no  proceedings  will  be  taken  against 
any  man  for  his  share  in  this  night's  work.  He  will  prom- 
ise you  nothing  further,  and  I  may  say  that  in  this  I 
quite  concur  with  him.  I  must  warn  you  that  what  you 
are  doing  is  a  very  serious  thing." 

"Then,"  said  Sewell  quietly,  "there  is  nothing  more  to 
be  said.  We  have  strength  enough  effectively  to  prevent 
Captain  Esmond  from  going  any  further  up  the  valley.  It 
would  be  better  for  everybody  if  he  did  not  compel  us  to 
make  use  of  it." 

Esmond,  who  had  been  unusually  patient  hitherto,  ap- 
parently lost  his  self-command. 

"We  will  endeavour  to  whip  the  insolence  out  of  you," 


282  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

he  said.  "By  the  time  the  thing  is  settled  your  leaders 
will  be  exceptionally  sorry  for  themselves." 

He  drew  back  a  little  with  the  major,  and  they  appeared, 
to  be  talking  earnestly  for  a  space.  It  seemed  to  Ingleby 
that  Esmond  wished  to  chance  an  attack;  but  perhaps  the 
troopers  were  worn-out,  or  the  major  recognized  the 
strength  of  the  miners'  position,  for  at  last  he  made  a  little 
sign,  and  the  men  moved  back  silently  into  the  shadow  of 
the  pines.  Then  the  tension  slackened,  and  Ingleby  shiv- 
ered a  little  as  he  strode  towards  the  fire. 

"It's  horribly  cold,  though  I  never  felt  it  until  a  minute 
or  two  ago,"  he  said.  "Well,  I  suppose  we  are  in  for  it 
now !" 

Sewell  laughed  in  a  curious  fashion.  "I  almost  think 
so.  Captain  Esmond  is  not  a  very  imposing  personage  in 
himself,  but  he  stands  for  a  good  deal,  you  see.  Still,  it's 
tolerably  evident  that  he  will  not  trouble  us  any  more  to- 
night." 

A  few  minutes  later  another  miner  climbed  up  on  the 
log,  and  the  rest  lay  down,  rolled  in  their  blankets,  about 
the  crackling  fire. 


XXVIII 

snowed  m 

Hp  WO  months  passed  almost  uneventfully  after  the  felling 
of  the  tree,  for  Esmond  found  no  means  of  forcing 
the  entrance  to  the  valley.  The  canon  furnished  the  only 
road  to  it,  and  he  found  £.  band  of  determined  men  ready  to 
dispute  his  passage  each  time  he  appeared  before  the  tree. 
A  company  of  sappers  could  scarcely  have  raised  them  a 
more  efficient  defense  than  the  one  they  had  made  at  the 
cost  of  an  hour's  labour  with  the  axe,  and  Esmond  re- 
luctantly recognized  that  it  was  practically  unassailable  by 
the  trifling  force  at  his  command.  An  attempt  to  carry  it 
by  assault  could  only  result  in  his  handful  of  men  being 
swept  away,  and  strategy  proved  as  useless,  for  when  the 
troopers  floundered  upstream  at  night  through  the  crackling 
ice-cake  in  the  slacker  flow  of  the  rapid  they  came  to  a 
furious  rush  of  water,  and  with  difficulty  gained  the  bank 
again.  An  attempt  to  crawl  up  to  the  barrier  in  the  dark- 
ness resulted  as  unsuccessfully,  for  a  man  leapt  up  upon 
the  log  with  a  blazing  brand  almost  as  they  left  the  shelter 
of  the  pines. 

The  getting  in  was  also  only  half  the  difficulty,  for  even 
if  he  passed  the  barrier  the  miners  could  muster  a  score 
of  men  for  every  one  he  had.  It  was  thus  apparently  useless 
to  provoke  actual  hostilities.  The  cards  were  evidently  in 
•Sewell's  hand,  and  it  was  clear  that  he  recognized  this  and 
had  his  men  in  perfect  command.  Not  a  shot  had  been 
fired — indeed,  no  miner  had  actually  been  seen  with  a 

283 


284  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

rifle — and  the  only  act  of  overt  violence  was  the  hurling  of 
Trooper  Grieve  from  the  log.  In  the  meanwhile  Esmond 
had  written  to  the  Provincial  authorities  in  Victoria,  but 
two  different  troopers  who  set  out  with  his  letters  came  back 
again.  The  snowfall  had  been  abnormal,  and,  though  they 
were  hard  men,  they  admitted  that  to  force  a  way  through 
the  passes  was  beyond  their  ability.  As  one  result  of  this, 
Grace  Coulthurst  had  abandoned  all  idea  of  going  to  Van- 
couver. 

In  the  meanwhile  work  was  being  carried  on  slowly  and 
painfully  in  the  valley,  where  the  men  thawed  the  soil 
with  great  fires  on  the  shallow  claims  and  postponed  the 
washing  until  the  ice  should  melt  again.  Between  whiles 
they  mounted  guard  behind  the  log,  and  slept  when  they 
could.  They  were  as  far  from  submission  as  ever,  but  the 
tension  had  slackened  long  ago,  and  there  was  nothing 
but  the  breastwork  to  show  that  imperial  authority  was 
being  quietly  set  at  nought  in  the  Green  Eiver  valley.  It 
was  merely  a  question  whose  provisions  would  hold  out 
longest  now ;  but  the  question  was  a  vitally  important  one, 
and  one  night  three  or  four  of  the  leaders  sat  discussing 
it  in  Sewell's  shanty. 

"So  far,  everything  has  gone  very  much  as  one  could 
expect,"  he  said.  "The  trouble  will  naturally  come  in  the 
spring  when  Esmond  can  bring  more  troopers  in.  That  is, 
of  course,  unless  we  can  make  terms  before  then,  which  is, 
I  fancy,  quite  probable." 

"And  if  we  can't?"  asked  the  American  who  had  at- 
tended to  Tomlinson.  "That  police  captain  shows  very 
little  sign  of  backing  down." 

"Then  we'll  have  to  bring  over  the  men  from  Wester- 
house,"  said  Ingleby.  "I  think  they'll  come,  and,  because 
it  will  not  be  difficult  to  block  out  Slavin,  who  is  in  com- 
mand of  the  police  there,  if  he  comes  along  after  them,  the 
position  will  be  much  the  same  as  before." 


SNOWED  IN  285 

He  looked  at  Sewell,  who,  however,  did  not  appear  to 
have  heard  him. 

"What's  going  to  stop  the  other  people  from  sending  a 
whole  regiment  along?"  asked  the  American. 

"The  British  official  character,"  said  Sewell  drily.  "It 
wouldn't  look  well,  you  see,  and  it  would  hurt  somebody's 
dignity  to  admit  that  it  was  necessary, — that  is,  of  course, 
so  long  as  we  play  our  cards  cleverly.  This  trouble  would 
be  regarded  from  the  official  point  of  view  as  merely  a 
little  temporary  friction  which  could  be  got  over  if  handled 
tactfully.  Indeed,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Esmond  is  quietly 
reprimanded  for  causing  it ;  but  one  has  to  remember  that 
if  you  persist  in  making  our  rulers  see  what  they  don't 
wish  to,  they're  apt  to  display  an  activity  that's  likely  to 
prove  as  unpleasant  to  men  in  our  position  as  it  is  unusual. 
They  don't  want  to  move  if  they  can  help  it,  but  some- 
body has  to  smart  for  it  if  they're  forced  to." 

"That's  quite  right,"  said  another  man,  "I  remember 
Kiel,  and  they'd  have  let  him  down  again  if  he'd  known 
enough  not  to  aggravate  them  by  killing  that  man  at  Fort 
Garry.  "Well,  I  guess  we've  no  use  for  that  while  Esmond 
keeps  his  head,  and  the  one  question  is  what  we're  going 
to  eat.  It's  quite  certain  I  can't  live  on  cedar  bark.  We 
want  grub,  and  we've  got  to  get  it.  There  are  men  right 
here  who  could  break  a  trail  to  anywhere." 

"If  we  try  the  usual  one  we'll  only  clear  it  for  Esmond 
to  bring  troopers  in,"  said  Ingleby. 

That  was  evident  to  everybody,  and  there  was  silence 
until  Sewell  spoke  again. 

"I've  been  well  up  the  south  fork  of  the  river  looking 
for  deer,"  he  said.  "  The  valley's  level,  and  I  didn't  strike 
a  rapid,  while  with  the  snow  on  the  river  one  could  keep 
clear  of  the  timber.  The  slight  thaw  we  had  should  make 
a  good  crust  for  travelling,  and  it  wouldn't  be  much  trouble 
to  make  a  few  jumper-sleds  for  the  provisions.  The  diffi- 
culty is  that  whoever  went  would  have  to  cross  the  divide 


286  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

from  headwater  and  pick  up  the  "usual  trail  on  the  other 
side." 

"Nobody  has  ever  been  over,"  said  another  man.  "I've 
no  use  for  crawling  up  precipices  with  a  big  flour-bag  on 
my  back." 

"That  might  be  because  nobody  has  ever  tried,"  said 
SewelL  "One  advantage  in  going  that  way  is  that  Esmond 
wouldn't  know  you  had  either  gone  out  or  come  back  again. 
We  don't  want  to  make  a  road  for  him."  Then  he  turned 
to  the  American.     "How's  Tomlinson  to-night?" 

"Going  very  slow.  The  frost's  against  him.  Wound 
won't  heal,  and  half-rotten  pork  and  bread  isn't  quite  the 
thing  to  feed  a  sick  man.  He  should  have  been  on  his  feet 
quite  a  while  ago." 

There  was  a  brief  discussion,  and  as  the  result  of  it 
twenty  men,  of  whom  Ingleby  was  one,  were  fixed  upon  to 
make  the  attempt.  They  were  all  of  them  willing,  and 
started  two  days  later  before  the  stars  had  paled,  while 
every  man  in  the  valley,  except  those  on  guard  behind  the 
log,  assembled  to  see  them  go,  though  Ingleby  did  not 
know  that  Hetty  Leger  stood  a  little  apart  from  them 
watching  the  shadowy  figures  melt  into  the  gloom  beneath 
the  pines.  It  was,  everybody  knew,  by  no  means  certain 
that  all  of  them  would  come  back  again. 

They  made  their  way  up-river,  dragging  a  few  rude 
sledges  with  them,  and  they  crossed  the  big  divide  in  the 
face  of  one  of  the  blinding  snowstorms  that  rage  on  the 
higher  ranges  most  of  the  winter.  That  cost  them  a  week 
of  tremendous  labour;  and  then  they  floundered  through 
tangled  muskegs,  where  the  stunted  pines  that  grew  in 
summer  out  of  quaggy  mire  had  been  reaped  and  laid  in 
rows  by  the  Arctic  winds.  Their  branches  were  strewn 
about  them,  and  the  men  smashed  a  way  through  the  hor- 
rible maze,  making,  with  infinite  pains,  scarcely  a  league 
a  day.  Still,  the  muskegs  were  left  behind,  and  the  ground 
was  clearer  in  a  big  brulee  where  fire  had  licked  up  under- 


SNOWED  IN  287 

growth  and  branches  and  the  great  trunks  rose  gauntly, 
charred  and  tottering  columns.  There  they  made  as  much 
as  four  leagues  in  a  day  through  ashes  and  dusty  snow,  and 
at  last  came  out  on  the  trail  to  the  settlement,  dragging 
with  them  one  man  whose  feet  were  frost-bitten.  Nobody 
had  crossed  the  divide  before;  but  that  was  probably  be- 
cause nobody  had  hitherto  been  driven  by  necessity  into 
trying,  and  now,  as  usually  happens  in  that  country,  the 
thing  attempted  had  been  done. 

The  settlement  was  not  an  especially  cheerful  spot,  con- 
sisting as  it  did  of  three  or  four  log-houses  roofed  with 
cedar  shingles  which  their  owners  had  split,  a  store,  and  a 
frame  hotel  covered  in  with  galvanized  iron,  though  slabs 
of  bark  had  been  largely  used  as  well.  They,  however, 
rested  there  several  days,  and  they  needed  it,  while  the 
hearts  of  most  of  them  sank  a  trifle  at  the  contemplation 
of  the  journey  home.  They  had  set  out  light,  but  the  store 
was  crammed  with  provisions,  which  the  freighter,  who  had 
somehow  brought  them  there,  had  abandoned  all  hope  of 
taking  farther.  It  was  evident  they  must  each  go  back 
with  a  load  which  a  man  unaccustomed  to  the  packing 
necessary  in  that  country  could  scarcely  carry  a  mile,  and 
the  hardiest  prospector  among  them  shrank  from  crossing 
the  divide  with  such  a  burden.  The  thing,  however,  had 
to  be  done,  and  on  the  night  before  their  departure  they 
were  arranging  their  packs  in  the  store  when  the  man  who 
kept  it  pointed  to  a  pile  of  bags  and  cases  in  a  corner. 

"That's  the  police  lot,  and  I  guess  they'll  want  the 
grub,"  he  said.  "I  can't  quite  figure  why  none  of  them 
have  come  in  for  it,  but  you  could  strike  them  for  transport 
on  anything  you  took  along." 

The  reason  Esmond  had  not  sent  down  to  inquire  about 
his  stores  was,  of  course,  quite  plain  to  the  miners ;  but  no- 
body in  that  settlement  knew  which  way  they  had  reached 
it  or  what  had  happened  in  the  Green  Eiver  valley,  and 
Sewell  laughed. 


288  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"I  am  not,"  he  said,  "a  freight-ox  or  a  dromedary,  and 
the  rest  of  us  have  already  got  a  good  deal  more  than  any 
one  could  reasonably  expect  them  to  carry." 

The  storekeeper  glanced  at  a  stout  deal  box.  "Well," 
he  said,  "I  guess  there's  not  much  more  than  twelve  pounds 
in  there,  and  it's  for  the  major — tea  and  coffee  and  some 
special  fixings  from  Vancouver.  If  he  don't  get  it,  he  and 
Miss  Coulthurst  will  come  right  down  to  drinking  water. 
The  freighter  couldn't  take  more  than  a  half-case  of  whisky 
in  for  him  last  time,  and  I  guess  that's  not  going  to  last 
the  Gold  Commissioner  long." 

Ingleby,  who  was  acquainted  with  the  major's  habits, 
surmised  that  this  was  very  probable,  but  it  appeared  of 
much  less  consequence  than  the  fact  that  Grace  might  also 
have  to  do  without  even  the  few  small  comforts  it  had 
hitherto  been  possible  to  bring  into  the  Green  Eiver  coun- 
try. He  no  longer  remembered  the  galling  of  the  pack- 
straps  or  the  tremendous  struggle  over  the  big  divide,  but 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  box. 

"We'll  manage  this  one,  anyway,"  he  said.  "I'll  take  it 
along  with  me." 

Then,  turning  at  the  sound  of  a  step,  he  saw  that  Sewell, 
who  had  followed  apparently  with  the  same  purpose,  was 
looking  at  him. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what  do  you  want?" 

"You  can't  take  that  case,"  said  Sewell.  "My  pack's 
lighter." 

Ingleby  was  a  trifle  astonished.  "I  was  first,"  he  said. 
"Is  there  any  special  reason  why  you  should  have  it  in- 
stead of  me?" 

Sewell  laughed,  though  his  tone  was  not  quite  his  usual 
one. 

"No,"  he  said.  "If  one  must  be  candid,  I  scarcely  think 
there  is." 

It  had  never  occurred  to  Ingleby  that  his  comrade  might 
have  set  himself  to  gain  Miss  Coulthurst's  favour  and  in  a 


SNOWED  IN  289 

measure  succeeded.  He  would  have  thought  the  notion 
preposterous  in  view  of  Sewell's  opinions,  and  he  smiled 
good-humouredly. 

"It  really  doesn't  matter.  I  wouldn't  have  let  you  have 
it,  anyway,"  he  said,  and  drew  the  storekeeper  aside. 

They  started  at  daybreak  next  morning,  and  before  they 
had  gone  a  league  Ingleby  found  that  the  extra  twelve 
pounds  made  his  burden  almost  insupportable.  Still,  he 
set  his  lips  and  bore  it,  taking  a  grim  pleasure  in  the  nip  of 
the  straps  that  galled  his  shoulders  as  he  remembered  for 
whom  he  was  carrying  the  box.  They  were  raw,  and  he  was 
worn-out  when  the  men  made  camp  beneath  a  towering  fir 
as  the  coppery  sun  went  down,  but  it  was  very  much  worse 
on  the  morrow  when  he  rose  with  aching  limbs  from  the 
frozen  soil  to  start  again.  Somehow  he  kept  his  place  with 
the  others  throughout  that  weary  day  and  the  ones  that 
dragged  by  after  it,  though  when  he  remembered  them 
afterwards  the  blurred  pictures  his  fancy  called  up  were 
like  an  evil  dream  of  fatigue  and  pain-- 

They  sank  ankle-deep  in  ashes  in*the  trulee,  rent  their 
limbs  and  garments  smashing  through  the  muskeg,  melted 
the  snow  with  their  camp-fires  by  lakes  and  streams  whose 
shores  even  the  wandering  prospector's  foot  had  scarcely 
trodden,  and  slept,  or  lay  awake  shivering,  with  boots  in 
the  embers  and  half-frozen  bodies  radiating  like  spokes 
from  the  hub  of  crackling  fire,  while  the  smoke,  which  was 
sharp  with  the  sting  of  the  resin,  curled  about  them.  Ing- 
leby's  shoulders  bled  daily  and  troubled  him  seriously  in 
the  frost  at  night,  a  seam  of  his  boot  had  fretted  a  raw  place 
across  his  foot,  and  in  the  bitter  mornings  the  cold  struck 
deep  and  keen.  Twelve  pounds  more  count  for  a  good  deal 
when  the  burden  is  already  all  that  its  bearer  is  fit  to  carry, 
and  the  effort  drained  the  store  of  heat  in  his  worn-out 
body  and  left  nothing  for  the  up-keep  of  its  vitality.  That 
heat  is  the  source  of  energy  everybody  knows,  but  only  those 
who  have  taxed  every  muscle  in  the  cold  of  the  Northwest 


290  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

realize  the  fact's  full  significance.  The  man  who  has  tried 
his  strength  too  hard  in  the  Arctic  frost  may  char  his  boots 
in  the  camp-fire,  but  he  cannot  get  warm.  To  add  to  his 
troubles,  Ingleby  had  no  proper  mittens,  and  when  the  one 
extemporized  from  a  strip  of  flour-bag  burst,  the  hand  with 
which  he  clutched  the  pack-straps  split  at  every  finger  joint, 
and  at  that  temperature  a"  sore  will  rarely  heal. 

The  others  were  not  in  much  better  condition,  though  day 
by  day  the  line  of  weary  men  stumbled  on  in  a  silence  that 
seemed  the  grimmer  for  the  burst  of  anathemas  from  the 
one  or  two  of  them  who  had  to  be  dragged  up  from  the  fire 
and  brutally  shaken  into  wakefulness  when  the  hour  to 
resume  the  journey  came.  Then  they  came  to  the  tre- 
mendous barrier  of  the  divide,  a  rampart  of  ice  and  snow 
which  even  in  summer  no  man  new  to  that  country  would 
attempt  to  climb. 

It  cost  them  a  day  to  make  the  first  thousand  feet  or  so, 
and  then  they  lost  count  of  the  rest,  during  which  they 
dragged  themselves  upward  from  dwarf  pine  to  pine  or 
crawled  along  scarped  slopes  with  the  peaks  still  above 
them.  They  were  waist-deep  in  snow  when  they  crossed  the 
ridge  through  the  gap  of  a  ravine  down  which  all  the  winds 
of  heaven  apparently  rioted,  but  they  fought  their  way 
foot  by  foot,  and  were  floundering  down  the  farther  side 
when  Ingleby,  who  was  staggering,  grey  in  face,  behind  the 
rearmost  of  them,  lost  his  footing  and  rolled  down  a  de- 
clivity. He  brought  up  with  a  crash  in  a  juniper,  and 
rising,  half-dazed,  recovered  his  legitimate  burden  and 
dragged  himself  on  again.  He  could  scarcely  see  the  others, 
for  his  head  was  throbbing  intolerably  and  his  sight  was 
dim,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  travelling  a  little 
more  easily  than  he  had  done.  It  was,  however,  not  until 
they  lay  beside  a  snapping  fire  that  night  with  their  packs 
piled  behind  them  as  a  barrier  to  the  bitter  wind,  that  the 
reason  for  this  became  apparent. 

"Where's  that  case  of  yours?"  asked  one  of  the  men. 


SNOWED  IN  291 

Ingleby  glanced  behind  him,  and  then  laid  down  the 
blackened  can  of  tea  he  held  and  rose  unsteadily. 

"You  haven't  got  it,"  he  asked  hoarsely,  "none  of  you?" 

There  was  a  little  sardonic  laughter,  and  one  of  the  others 
said,  "I  guess  we've  got  'most  enough  without  humping 
another  case  along  for  anybody." 

"Then  I  must  have  left  it  where  I  fell  into  that  juniper 
this  afternoon." 

He  shook  his  galled  shoulders,  which  were  bleeding 
through  the  shirt  that  was  glued  to  them,  and  he  winced  as 
the  movement  tore  it  from  the  wound.  Then  he  turned 
slowly  away  from  the  fire. 

"Hold  on.    Where  are  you  going?"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"Back  for  the  case.  If  I'm  fortunate,  I  may  make  camp 
before  you  start  to-morrow." 

He  stopped  for  just  a  moment,  and  looked  back  at  the 
fire  with  a  fierce  physical  longing  in  his  eyes,  for  all  that 
was  animal  in  him  craved  for  food  and  the  rest  of  repletion. 
Sewell,  he  saw,  was  lying  half-asleep,  with  a  partly  con- 
sumed flapjack  fallen  from  his  hand. 

"Now,  see  here,"  said  somebody,  "we  can't  wait  for  you. 
Unless  we  get  down  out  of  the  frost  into  thick  timber  by 
to-morrow  night,  ifs  quite  likely  one  or  two  of  us  will  stay 
up  here  altogether.  You've  got  a  straight  warning.  Let 
the  blame  thing  go." 

Ingleby  said  nothing.  He  knew  that  if  he  dallied  his 
flesh  would  master  him,  and  he  limped  out  of  the  firelight 
with  a  groan.  The  red  flicker  faded  suddenly,  and  he  was 
alone  on  a  great  sloping  waste  where  a  few  dwarf  firs  and 
junipers  were  scattered,  black  as  ink  on  a  ground  of  blink- 
ing white,  under  the  big  coppery  moori.  There  was  a  pain 
in  every  joint,  the  rag  wound  about  one  hand  was  stiff,  and 
he  dare  not  move  his  shoulders  now,  while  at  every  step  the 
torturing  boot  ate  into  his  flesh.  That  was  all  he  remem- 
bered, for  he  could  never  recall  afterwards  much  of  what 
he  felt  and  did  that  night. 


292  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

He  was  not  back  at  the  camp  next  morning,  and  when 
his  comrades  had  waited  an  hour  or  two  they  moved  on 
slowly  without  him.  One  can  live  in  the  open  under  a 
greater  cold  than  they  were  called  upon  to  face,  that  is,  if 
one  is  provided  with  costly  furs  and  sleeping  bags  to  suit  it ; 
but  there  are  reasons  why  the  prospector  usually  has 
neither,  and  there  was  no  more  endurance  left  in  the  men. 
Tngleby,  however,  would,  at  least,  have  no  difficulty  in 
picking  up  their  trail,  and  unless  they  made  shelter  that 
night  it  seemed  very  probable  that  some  of  them  would 
freeze.  They  found  it  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  wall  in 
a  thick  belt  of  young  firs  where  the  jumper-sledges  and  two 
or  three  axes  had  been  left,  and  that  night  they  lay  in  com- 
fort about  the  fire  with  a  kettle  of  strong  green  tea  in  their 
midst,  and  the  springy  cedar  and  spruce  twigs  piled  high 
about  them.  Two  of  them,  however,  were  not  there,  for 
Sewell  had  gone  back  in  search  of  Ingleby. 

It  was  snowing  a  little,  and  there  was  no  moon  visible, 
while,  though  the  rest  of  the  journey  down  the  valley  would, 
by  comparison,  be  easy,  now  they  had  the  sledges,  the  men 
were  curiously  silent  as  they  lay  about  the  fire.  Nobody 
seemed  disposed  to  sleep,  and  the  kettle  had  been  emptied 
when  one  of  them  glanced  round  at  the  rest. 

"If  he  doesn't  come  in  by  to-morrow  I'm  going  back," 
he  said. 

"I  guess  it  mightn't  be  much  use  to-morrow,"  said  a 
comrade.  "If  I  could  get  a  move  on  me  I'd  go  to-night, 
but  I'm  not  sure  I  can.  What  d'you  say  Tie'  for,  anyway  ? 
There's  two  of  them." 

The  men  were  dead-weary,  too  dazed  with  fatigue  almost 
to  think.  Nor  was  there  one  of  them  anxious  to  make  the 
effort,  which  if  successful  might  drag  him  from  his  rest. 
Thus  they  were  willing  to  be  led  away  from  the  point  at 
issue,  which  was  what  might  have  happened  to  Ingleby. 

"Well,"  said  the  first  speaker,  "Sewell's  a  smart  man, 
and  he  means  well,  but  I  hadn't  quite  remembered  him. 


SNOWED  IN  293 

When  I  was  broke,  and  hadn't  a  dollar's  worth  of  dust  to  get 
the  truck  I  had  to  have  from  the  freighter,  Ingleby  went 
bond  for  me.  He  don't  know  a  good  deal  more  than  he  has 
any  use  for,  like  the  other  man,  but  he's  there  when  he's 
wanted.  That's  the  kind  he  is.  I'll  give  him  another  half- 
hour.    Then  I'm  going  back  for  him." 

There  was  a  drowsy  murmur  of  concurrence.  Sewell  was 
liked  in  the  Green  Kiver  valley,  and  no  man  doubted  his 
sincerity ;  but  that  was,  after  all,  not  quite  enough,  for  it  is, 
though  somewhat  difficult  of  comprehension,  a  fact  that 
the  dwellers  in  the  wilderness,  who  see  fewer  of  their  fel- 
lowmen,  have  usually  a  clearer  insight  into  the  primitive 
essentials  of  human  character  than  the  men  of  the  cities. 
They  do  not  ask  too  much  of  it,  but  on  certain  points  their 
demand  is  inexorable,  and  it  is  very  seldom  that  a  simply 
meretricious  quality  goes  far  with  them.  Ingleby  was  not 
a  genius,  he  blundered  in  details,  and  he  had  few  graces; 
but  they  believed  in  him. 

The  half-hour  had  almost  passed  when  one  of  them 
sharpty  raised  his  head,  and,  though  few  other  men  would 
probably  have  heard  anything,  the  rest  shook  themselves 
to  attention.  High  up  on  the  range  above  them  there  was 
a  soft  pattering  in  the  snow,  which  grew  louder,  until  they 
could  hear  two  men  stumbling  down  the  steep  hillside. 
After  that  there  was  a  snapping  of  twigs  among  the  firs, 
and  Sewell  strode  into  the  red  light  with  his  hand  on 
Ingleby's  shoulder.  The  latter's  face  was  grey,  and  he  stag- 
gered until  somebody  seized  him  and  dragged  him  down 
beside  the  fire.  Then  he  blinked  at  them  out  of  half-closed 
eyes. 

"I  got  the  case,"  he  said. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  a  man  soothingly  as  he  loosed  the 
straps  about  his  shoulders  and  lifted  the  case  aside,  but 
Ingleby  turned  upon  him  savagely. 

"Put  it  there, you!    I  want  to  see  it.    It's  hers," 

he  said. 


294  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

His  voice  was  strained  and  broken,  and  Sewell  did  not 
hear  all  he  said. 

"Get  him  some  tea  and  flapjacks.  I  think  he's  a  little 
off  his  head/'  he  said. 


XXIX 

ESMOND'S  HANDS  AEE  TIED 

r>  EACE  COULTHURST  had  not  long  cleared  the  even- 
^^  ing  meal  away,  but  she  was  already  waiting  Esmond's 
departure  with  an  impatience  which  was  somewhat  difficult 
to  hold  in  check.  He  had  come  across  from  the  outpost 
while  she  was  occupied  with  the  task,  and  that  in  itself 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  displease  her,  but  there  were 
also  other  causes  for  the  strain  upon  her  temper.  Miss 
Coulthurst  had  not  expected  to  fare  luxuriously  in  the 
Green  River  country  and  had  hitherto  borne  the  necessary 
discomforts  exceptionally  well;  but  of  late  she  had  been 
actually  hungry,  which,  in  her  case,  was  as  unpleasant  as 
it  was  unusual. 

There  was  still  a  store  of  flour  and  salt-pork  in  the  Gold 
Commissioner's  house,  but  there  was  practically  nothing 
else,  and  the  pork  was  rancid,  while  Grace  had  a  very  rudi- 
mentary acquaintance  with  the  art  of  cookery.  As  one 
result  of  this,  she  had  risen  unsatisfied  from  each  untempt- 
ing  meal,  and,  brought  up  as  she  had  been,  the  deprivation 
had  its  effect  on  her  physical  nature,  though  she  felt  the 
isolation  which  had  succeeded  the  blockade  even  more.  Of 
late  the  company  of  Ingleby  or  Sewell  had  become  almost  a 
necessity,  while  she  had  naturally  not  seen  either  of  them 
since  the  miners  made  their  protest.  Coulthurst  had  also 
been  a  trifle  difficult  to  get  on  with.  He  was  not  addicted 
to  indulgence,  but  neither  was  he  particularly  abstemious, 
and  tea  brewed  from  leaves  which  had  been  infused  once  or 

295 


296  DELILAH   OF   THE   SNOWS 

twice  already  was  not  a  beverage  he  appreciated  or  one  that 
tended  to  make  him  more  companionable. 

He  lay  somewhat  wearily  in  a  big  deck-chair  beside  the 
stove  with  an  unlighted  cigar  in  his  hand,  while  Esmond 
sat  opposite  him  with  an  unpleasant  look  in  his  face. 

"There  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by  hiding  the  fact  that 
I'm  a  little  anxious  about  the  state  of  affairs,  sir,"  he  said. 
"The  scoundrelly  miners  are  still  apparently  as  far  from 
giving  in  as  ever,  and,  unpleasant  as  it  is  to  admit,  they 
have  the  upper  hand." 

"It  looks  like  it,"  said  the  major  drily.  "I  suppose  you 
haven't  thought  of  making  a  compromise?  Nobody's  hurt 
as  yet,  and  I  fancy  they  would  be  satisfied  if  you  met  them 
with  regard  to  Tomlinson.  You're  not  bound  to  send  a 
man  up  for  trial  unless  it's  reasonably  evident  that  he's 
guilty,  and  I  don't  believe  Tomlinson  did  the  thing,  my- 
self. Couldn't  you  hold  a  kind  of  informal  inquiry,  and 
give  the  boys  an  opportunity  for  proving  him  innocent  ?" 

A  vindictive  sparkle  crept  into  Esmond's  eyes.  "And 
permit  a  rabble  of  that  kind  to  teach  me  my  duty?  I'm 
afraid  not.  Even  if  I  wasn't  sure  the  man  was  guilty, 
which  I  am,  the  thing  would  be  out  of  the  question." 

"You  feel  warranted  in  calling  all  of  them. — rabble?" 
asked  Grace. 

"I  do.  Every  one  of  them.  Their  leaders,  in  particular, 
belong  to  that  most  intolerable  class  to  be  found  anywhere 
— the  half-taught  proletariat,  with  just  enough  education 
to  increase  their  natural  unpleasantness  and  inspire  them 
with  a  hatred  of  their  superiors.  That,  however,  is  not 
quite  the  point." 

The  blood  rose  to  the  girl's  face,  but  remembering  that 
the  major  occasionally  displayed  some  little  penetration 
she  contrived  to  keep  silent,  though  this  was  by  no  means 
easy.    Coulthurst,  however,  nodded. 

"I  scarcely  think  it  is,"  he  said,  with  a  trace  of  dryness. 
"As  I  pointed  out  once  before,  you  do  not  seem  to  remem- 


ESMOND'S  HANDS  ARE  TIED  297 

her  that  I  occasionally  had  Mr.  Sewell  and  Ingleby 
here." 

"I'm  afraid  I  didn't — I'm  sorry,  sir,"  said  Esmond. 
"  Of  course,  I  should  have  done  so.  One  could  almost  have 
fancied  that  they  were  here  frequently." 

Again  Grace  said  nothing,  though  it  cost  her  a  stronger 
effort,  and  the  major  did  not  appear  to  notice  the  younger 
man's  sardonic  smile. 

"Since  you  don't  seem  to  care  for  my  suggestion,  have 
you  any  notions  of  your  own  ?" 

"I  haven't,  which  is  partly  why  I  came  to  you.  If  I 
could  only  find  a  way  of  getting  word  to  Victoria  and  a  few 
more  troopers  in,  it  would  be  easy  to  bring  them  to  reason. 
As  it  is,  I  have  sense  enough  to  realize  that  nobody  would 
thank  me  for  forcing  a  contest  that  could  only  end  in  dis- 
aster and  the  subsequent  sending  up  of  a  battalion  of  Cana- 
dian militia.    The  miners  are  twenty  to  one,  you  see." 

Again  Coulthurst  nodded.  "You  are  right  in  one  re- 
spect," he  said.  "Personally,  I  shouldn't  care  to  under- 
take the  thing  with  less  than  three  or  four  strong  com- 
panies, and  I'm  not  sure  I  could  get  in  then.  Well,  since 
a  compromise  appears  out  of  the  question,  you  can  only 
wait  events." 

"That  is  the  difficulty.  I  can't  wait  too  long.  We're 
on  full  rations  still,  but  stores  are  getting  low  and  certainly 
won't  last  until  the  thaw  sets  in.  Of  course,  if  affairs  had 
been  different,  I  could  have  hired  enough  of  the  fellows  to 
break  out  a  trail." 

Perhaps  the  major  did  not  intend  it,  but  he  looked  at 
Grace,  and  saw  comprehension  of  his  thoughts  in  her  eyes. 
They  were  not  on  full  rations,  or  anything  approaching  it, 
at  the  Gold  Commissioner's  house,  and  a  few  of  the  com- 
forts Esmond  could  have  spared  would  have  been  worth  a 
good  deal  to  them.  He  was  in  some  respects  not  an  un- 
generous man,  but  though  he  must,  Grace  fancied,  have 
seen  how  meagrely  they  fared,  such  a  course  had  evidently 


298  DELILAH  OF   THE   SNOWS 

never  suggested  itself  to  him,  and  in  that  fact  lay  the  sting. 
He  rose  to  go,  in  another  minute  or  two,  but  just  then 
there  was  a  knocking  at  the  door,  which  swung  open  a  mo- 
ment later,  and  Grace  gasped  as  she  saw  Ingleby  standing 
on  the  threshold  with  a  heavy  case  in  his  hands. 

His  garments  were  ragged,  and  his  gauntness  showed 
through  them.  His  face  was  worn,  and  darkened  by  ex- 
posure to  the  frost,  but  his  eyes  were  steady,  and  he  glanced 
at  the  girl  with  a  smile.  There  was  a  curious  silence  for 
a  moment  or  two  until  he  turned  to  the  major. 

"May  I  come  in,  sir?"  he  asked. 

Coulthurst  regarded  him  sternly.  "You  could  scarcely 
expect  me  to  welcome  a  man  in  arms  against  his  country." 

"No,"  said  Ingleby.  "Not  as  a  friend.  That  would 
be  unreasonable.  Still,  I  have  a  little  explanation  to  make, 
and  it  is  a  bitter  night  to  keep  the  door  open.  With  your 
permission !" 

He  swung  round  and  closed  it,  after  which  he  laid  down 
the  case,  and  Grace  felt  a  thrill  of  appreciation  as  she 
watched  him.    His  self-possession  appealed  to  her. 

"You  have  come — alone?"  asked  the  major. 

"Of  course!"  said  Ingleby. 

Esmond  smiled,  though  there  was  no  good-humour  in 
his  eyes,  and,  as  if  inadvertently,  dropped  his  hand  on  his 
hip.  His  uniform  was  raised  a  trifle  there,  in  a  fashion 
which  suggested  that  a  pistol  lay  beneath  it. 

"Wasn't  that  a  little  rash?"  he  asked.  "Can  you  point 
out  any  reason  why  I  shouldn't  arrest  you  ?" 

"I  fancy  I  can,"  and  Ingleby  made  a  gesture  of  im- 
patience. "For  one  thing,  if  you  attempted  to  lay  hands 
on  me  or  reached  for  your  pistol  I  should  fling  you  out  into 
the  snow.  That,  of  course,  isn't  in  good  taste  to  say  in 
another  man's  house;  but  it  may  save  everybody  unpleasant- 
ness, and,  in  any  case,  I'm  one  of  the  proletariat  from 
whom  too  much  is  not  expected." 

There  was  a  harshness  in  his  voice  and  a  glow  in  his 


ESMOND'S  HANDS  ARE  TEED  299 

eyes  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  was  perfectly  willing 
to  make  his  promise  good,  while,  though  his  attitude  was 
certainly  not  all  that  conventionality  demanded,  it  was,  at 
least,  natural  in  the  circumstances,  and  Grace  was  not  dis- 
pleased by  it.  Esmond,  perhaps  because  he  recognized  the 
necessity  for  displaying  his  superior  training,  kept  his 
temper,  and  Coulthurst  watched  them  both,  with  a  little 
grim  smile. 

"  I  haven't  the  least  intention  of  indulging  in  an  exhibi- 
tion of  that  kind,  which  would  be  quite  unnecessary,"  said 
the  police  officer.  "There  is  a  trooper  within  call  who  has 
a  carbine." 

"I  saw  him,  though,  being  a  policeman  on  duty,  he  nat- 
urally did  not  see  me.  What  would  you  gain  by  calling 
him?" 

"I  think  he  and  I  between  us  could  take  you  to  the 
outpost." 

"You  might.  I  haven't  a  weapon  of  any  kind  with  me, 
but  what  then?  Two  of  my  comrades  know  where  I  am, 
and  you  would  have  thirty  or  forty  armed  miners  inquiring 
for  me  before  morning.  It  is,  of  course,  quite  plain  that 
you  can't  afford  to  force  an  outbreak  of  that  kind." 

Esmond  realized  that  this  was  true.  Ingleby,  it  was 
evident,  held  the  cards  and,  was  quite  aware  of  it.  He 
wisely  said  nothing,  though  his  face  grew  hot,  and  there 
was  a  wicked  look  in  his  eyes.  Then  Ingleby  turned  to 
the  major  again. 

"What  I  have  to  say  is  not  in  the  least  important,  and 
will  not  keep  you  a  minute,  sir,"  he  said.  "Still,  there 
are  reasons  why  I  would  sooner  Captain  Esmond  didn't 
hear  it." 

"I  believe  he  was  going  when  you  came  in,"  said  Coul- 
thurst reflectively. 

The  hint  was  plain  enough,  and  Esmond  moved  towards 
the  door,  while  Ingleby,  who  stood  between  him  and  his 
fur-coat,  handed  the  coat  to  him.    Then  as  the  officer  went 


300  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

out  he  lifted  a  partly-filled  flour-bag  in  from  the  veranda, 
and,  when  he  had  closed  the  door,  laid  it  with  the  case  on 
the  table. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  Grace  said  quietly. 

Ingleby  looked  at  Coulthurst.  "I  scarcely  think  Major 
Coulthurst  would  object  to  anything  you  suggest,  but  I  am 
in  his  hands." 

"Sit  down — and  be  hanged  to  you!"  said  the  major, 
whose  face  grew  suddenly  red.  "Do  you  suppose  I  enjoy 
the  position  you  have  forced  me  into  ?" 

Ingleby  did  as  he  was  bidden.  "I  came  across  this  case 
at  the  settlement,  sir,  and  was  told  it  was  for  you.  From 
what  the  storekeeper  said  I  fancied  Miss  Coulthurst  would 
be  pleased  to  have  it,  and  that  you  wouldn't  mind  my  bring- 
ing it  up  with  me." 

"You  were  at  the  settlement  ?"  and  Coulthurst  glanced  at 
him  almost  incredibly.  "Perhaps  you  know  Esmond  sent 
down  two  or  three  troopers,  and  they  couldn't  face  the 
snow?" 

"Yes,  sir.  You  will  probably  understand  why  I  pre- 
ferred not  to  mention  it  in  Captain  Esmond's  presence." 

"The  box  is  proof  that  you  were  there — but  how  the 
devil  you  managed  it  is  more  than  I  know.  The  troopers 
certainly  couldn't." 

"They  didn't  go  the  right  way,"  said  Ingleby  drily. 

"Then  there  is  another  one?"  and  Coulthurst  flashed  a 
sharp  glance  at  him. 

"As  a  very  little  reflection  would  show  j'ou  that  there 
must  be,  there  is  no  use  in  running  away  from  the  question. 
Besides,  I  feel  I'm  safe  in  your  hands,  and,  while  circum- 
stances continue  as  they  are,  Captain  Esmond  couldn't 
profit  by  any  conclusions  you  might  come  to.  Shall  I  open 
the  case  for  you,  sir?" 

The  major  made  a  little  sign,  and  Ingleby,  crossing  to 
the  hearth,  picked  up  the  rock-drill,  which  served  as  poker, 
and  contrived  to  prize  up  the  lid  with  it. 


ESMOND'S  HANDS  ARE  TIED  301 

It  was  a  trifling  action,  but  it  was  characteristic;  and 
Grace  noticed  that  he  made  use  of  the  thing  that  was 
nearest  without  troubling  anybody  to  find  him  a  more 
suitable  implement.  Then  he  laid  out  the  contents  of  the 
box  upon  the  table,  and  the  girl's  face  softened  as  she 
watched  him.  The  little  comforts  in  themselves  were  worth 
a  good  deal  to  her  just  then,  but  the  fact  that  he  had 
thought  of  her  was  worth  far  more.  The  major,  however, 
appeared  a  trifle  disappointed,  and  she  fancied  she  knew 
what  he  was  looking  for.  Ingleby  seemed  to  know  it,  too, 
for  there  was  a  suggestion  of  a  smile  in  his  eyes.  Leaning 
one  elbow  on  the  table  she  looked  at  him  with  her  rounded 
chin  in  the  palm  of  one  hand. 

"Whichever  way  you  went  you  must  have  crossed  the 
range,"  she  said.  "That  box  was  heavy.  How  did  you 
carry  it  ?" 

"On  my  back,"  said  Ingleby.  "That  is  the  usual  way. 
We  had  sold  all  the  horses  off  to  the  freighter  for  a  few 
dollars  quite  a  while  ago.  Of  course,  as  I  hadn't  asked 
your  permission,  it  was  a  liberty." 

Grace  made  a  little  gesture.  "What  did  }7ou  go  down 
to  the  settlement  for  ?" 

"Provisions." 

"But  nobody  could  carry  many  of  them  over  the  moun- 
tains." 

"I  think  I  managed  forty  pounds,"'  said  Ingleby  in- 
cautiously. "Most  of  the  boys  had  considerably  more." 

The  clear  rose  colour  crept  into  Grace's  cheeks,  and  she 
did  not  trouble  to  prevent  his  seeing  it.  She  knew  what 
the  simple  admission  meant,  and  that  it  must  have  cost 
him  toil  incredible  to  make  that  journey  with  a  double 
burden.    It  was  for  her  he  had  borne  it. 

"And  the  box?"  she  asked. 

Ingleby's  embarrassment  was  evident,  and  she  turned  to 
the  major  with  a  curious  little  laugh  and  a  faint  ring  in 
her  voice. 


302  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Do  you  understand  what  Mr.  Ingleby  has  done?"  she 
said.  "He  has  carried  that  box  besides  his  own  load  up 
from  the  settlement — over  the  mountains — so  that  we 
should  not  suffer  for  anything." 

Coulthurst  also  appeared  embarrassed.  In  fact,  his  face 
was  distinctly  red.  "I'm  very  much  obliged  to  him,"  he 
said.  "It's  devilishly  unfortunate  you  got  drawn  into  that 
outpost  business,  Ingleby.  Excuse  me,  Grace,  it  is — un- 
fortunate. Can't  you  see  how  you  have  placed  me?  As 
a  man  who  has  served  his  nation,  even  though  he  has  been 
kicked  for  it,  I  can't  very  well " 

He  stopped  a  moment,  still  a  trifle  flushed,  and  then 
broke  into  a  little  laugh.  "Well,"  he  said,  "you're  too 
strong  for  me — I'll  capitulate.  You  know  the  ground  I 
;  ought  to  take  as  well  as  I  do;  but  it's  more  than  could 
reasonably  be  expected  of  any  man,  under  the  circum- 
stances. Still,  that  storekeeper  fellow  might  have  put  in 
something  a  little  more  exhilarating  than  tea." 

Ingleby  opened  the  flour-bag  with  something  as  nearly 
approaching  a  grin  on  his  gaunt  face  as  was  compatible 
with  the  deferential  attitude  he  had  assumed. 

"I  feel  a  little  diffident  about  the  next  proceeding,  sir," 
he  said.  "In  fact,  it  is  a  piece  of  almost  intolerable  pre- 
sumption on  the  part  of  a  man  setting  constituted  authority 
at  defiance,  as  I'm  afraid  I  am.  Still,  you  see,  people  must 
eat  and  drink,  in  any  case." 

He  took  two  carefully  wrapped  bottles  out  of  the  bag, 
and  the  major's  eyes  twinkled,  while  as  he  spread  out  the 
rest  of  its  contents  Grace  felt  her  heart  grow  very  soft 
towards  him.  He  had,  it  seemed,  thought  of  everything 
that  could  minister  to  her  comfort.  Then  she  saw  that  he 
had  guessed  what  she  was  thinking,  and  his  honest)'  became 
apparent. 

"The  storekeeper  had  his  wife  there,"  he  said.  "I  had 
a  little  talk  with  her." 

"It  is  to  be  hoped  she  didn't  drink  whisky  of  that  kind," 


ESMOND'S  HANDS  ARE  TIED  303 

said  the  major,  with  a  chuckle.  "You  couldn't  get  any- 
thing better  in  a  Montreal  club." 

Ingleby  laughed.  "I  fancy  some  of  my  comrades  have 
belonged  to  associations  of  the  kind,  and  a  good  many  of 
them  have  cultivated  tastes,"  he  said.  "As  a  matter  of 
fact,  they  can  afford  them." 

"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  how  much  those 
things  cost?"  asked  the  major. 

"If  you  insist.  In  fact,  there's  an  invoice  here.  Still, 
after  the  little  kindnesses  you  have  shown  me  I  would  much 
sooner  not  let  you  see  it." 

Coulthurst  looked  at  him  sharply,  and  then,  reaching  out, 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  grocery  bill.  After  that  he  rose  and 
went  into  the  adjoining  room,  and  when  he  came  back 
he  handed  Ingleby  a  cheque  on  a  Vancouver  bank.  Grace 
watched  the  miner  curiously  as  he  did  so. 

"Now  you  have  relieved  your  feelings,  sir,  I  can  make 
what  use  I  like  of  what  is  my  own,"  he  said. 

He  crossed  the  room  and  flung  the  paper  into  the  fire, 
then  turned  with  a  little  smile  to  the  major.  It  was  a 
bold  step,  and  the  boldness  of  it  appealed  to  the  girl.  She 
understood  it  as  an  assertion  of  equality,  something  he 
owed  to  himself,  and  withal  it  was  done  with  deference  and 
not  aggressively.  For  a  moment  Coulthurst  gazed  at  him 
in  astonishment.  Then  he  laughed,  and  made  a  little  sign 
of  comprehension. 

"I'm  not  sure  I've  met  many  young  men  with  nerve 
enough  to  do  that,  but  I  think  you're  right,"  he  said.  "I 
was  pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mr.  Ingleby — and 
it  is,  perhaps,  not  altogether  your  fault  that  the  present 
unfortunate  circumstances  must  necessarily  lead  to  a  tem- 
porary break  in  it." 

Ingleby  made  him  a  little  grave  inclination.  "I  under- 
stand, sir,  and  there  is  only  one  thing  I  would  like  to  ask," 
he  said.  "We  may  make  some  suggestions  shortly  for  a 
compromise,  and,  in  view  of  Captain  Esmond's  tempera- 


SOI  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

ment — and  our  own — they  might  be  considered  more  dis- 
passionately if  passed  through  a  third  party.  Would  you 
be  willing  to  receive  Sewell  here?" 

He  was  evidently  about  to  go,  and  Coulthurst  held  out 
his  hand.  "Send  him  as  soon  as  you  can.  If  your  ideas 
are  reasonable,  I'll  do  my  utmost  with  Esmond.  This  state 
of  affairs  can't  go  on." 

Ingleby  turned  towards  the  door,  but  Grace,  who  was 
waiting,  opened  it  for  him,  and  let  her  hand  rest  in  his  a 
moment. 

"Walter,"  she  said  very  softly,  "it  was  exactly  what  I 
would  have  expected  from  you." 

Ingleby  did  not  think  it  advisable  to  turn  round,  but  he 
gripped  the  little  fingers  hard  as  he  passed  out  into  the 
darkness. 


XXX 

SEWELI/S  DOWNFALL 

C  EWELL  went  to  Major  Coulthurst's  the  following  night, 
and  remained  some  time  in  conference  with  him.  He 
also  went  there  a  day  or  two  later  to  hear  Esmond's  answer 
to  the  suggestions  he  had  conveyed,  and  when  it  was  deliv- 
ered he  found  himself  no  nearer  a  compromise.  There  was 
not  a  man  in  the  valley  who  would  agree  to  what  the  police 
officer  demanded ;  and  though  Sewell  went  back  with  some- 
what modified  proposals  from  time  to  time,  affairs  dragged 
on  at  a  deadlock,  while  each  party  hoped  to  starve  the  other 
into  surrender. 

The  miners  could  with  difficulty  have  obtained  a  tem- 
porary and  insufficient  supply  of  provisions,  but  fearing 
that  Esmond  would  be  driven  to  action,  their  leaders  were 
dubious  about  sending  any  number  of  their  men  away  again. 
It  was  a  game  of  bluff  they  were  playing,  and  it  had 
dragged  out  much  longer  than  any  of  them  had  anticipated, 
while  all  could  recognize  that  it  was  only  by  holding  com- 
mand of  such  a  force  as  would  render  hopeless  any  attempt 
to  drive  them  from  their  barricade  that  they  could  avoid 
an  actual  recourse  to  arms,  which  must  eventually  prove 
disastrous  to  them. 

Finally,  after  a  meeting  of  all  concerned,  Sewell  was  dis- 
patched again  with  what  practically  amounted  to  an  ulti- 
matum, and  on  the  evening  on  which  he  was  to  deliver  it 
he  and  Ingleby  and  Leger  discussed  the  affair  at  the  bakery. 
Hetty  was  not  present,  for  though  they  were  on  short 

305 


306  DELILAH    OF    THE    SNOWS 

rations,  she  had  gone  up  the  valley  with  one  or  two  little 
dainties  she  had  contrived  to  make  for  Tomlinson.  He 
had  been  a  strong  and  healthy  man,  but  wounds,  com- 
plicated by  comminuted  bones,  give  trouble  in  the  cold  of 
that  country,  and  the  very  indifferent  food  had  further 
militated  against  his  recovery.  Sewell  stood  ready  to  set 
out,  Ingleby  and  Leger  sat  by  the  hearth,  and  there  was 
anxiety  in  the  faces  of  all  of  them. 

"I'm  afraid  it's  a  fool's  errand  I'm  going  on,"  said 
Sewell.  "It  is,  of  course,  useless  to  threaten  to  seize  the 
outpost  when  Esmond  must  realize  that  we  have  no  inten- 
tion of  doing  it.  The  thing's  out  of  the  question.  It  was 
all  very  well  to  block  the  troopers  out,  but  if  we  shot  one  of 
them  it  would  bring  every  policeman  in  the  country,  and, 
if  necessary,  the  whole  Canadian  militia,  down  upon  our 
heads." 

"It's  almost  a  pity  you  didn't  realize  that  before,"  said 
Leger. 

Sewell  made  a  little  gesture  which  might  have  expressed 
anything.  "Mutual  recriminations  seldom  do  much  good, 
and  I  scarcely  think  any  one  would  have  expected  Esmond 
to  hold  out  as  he  has  done.  I  met  one  of  the  troopers  the 
last  time  I  went  to  Coulthurst's,  and  he  admitted  that  they 
were  practically  starving.  It  was  a  bluff  we  put  up,  but 
we  made  the  mistake  of  assuming  that  the  opposition  had 
less  nerve  than  we  had.  After  all,  it's  not  a  very  uncom- 
mon one." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  it  was  only  bluff  when  you  began  ?" 
asked  Leger  quietly. 

Sewell  started,  almost  imperceptibly,  but  Leger  saw  it, 
and  even  Ingleby,  who  would  have  believed  in  him  in  spite 
of  everything,  fancied  that  there  was  embarrassment  in  his 
face. 

"Circumstances  alter  cases,  and  I've  learnt  a  little  about 
British  official  inertia  since  I've  been  up  here,"  he  said. 
"It's  rather  a  big  contract  to  dictate  terms  to  the  Dominion 


SEWELL'S  DOWNFALL  307 

of  Canada  when  we  have  failed  to  make  any  great  impres- 
sion on  one  police  officer.  Anyway,  I  may  as  well  get  on 
to  the  commissioner's.  Neither  of  us  is,  I  fancy,  in  the 
most  amiable  temper." 

He  went  ont,  and  Ingleby  looked  at  Leger,  who  shook 
his  head. 

"He's  quite  right,  Walter.  It's  too  big  a  thing  for  us, 
and  we  have  failed,"  he  said.  "If  it  comes  to  the  worst 
and  Esmond  goes  down,  he'll  beat  us  still." 

Ingleby  said  nothing,  though  his  face  grew  grim,  and 
Leger  continued  with  a  little  dry  smile,  "Sewell  will  do 
no  good.  It's  almost  a  pity  we  hadn't  chosen  another  man. 
His  heart  isn't  in  the  thing." 

"You  can  say  that — when  you  know  his  record?"  and 
there  was  a  flash  of  anger  in  Ingleby's  eyes. 

"Don't  misunderstand  me.  Sewell  will  not  actually  play 
us  false.  He  is,  of  course,  a  much  more  brilliant  man  than 
either  of  us,  and  he'll  handle  our  case  with  his  usual  ability. 
Still,  that  is  scarcely  enough,  and  one  has  to  admit  that  it's 
a  poor  one  intrinsically.  We  started  with  the  mistake  of 
taking  it  for  granted  that  Esmond  could  be  bluffed." 

"I'm  not  sure  that  we  did.  To  be  correct,  I  started  the 
thing  without  thinking  of  anything.  Anyway,  you  believed 
as  firmly  as  the  rest  of  us  in  Sewell  and  that  the  men  here 
and  at  Westerhouse  could  make  a  stand  that  would  result  in 
their  getting  what  they  wanted." 

Leger  sat  silent  a  moment  or  two.  "Perhaps  I  did, 
though  I  think  I  saw  the  weak  points  of  the  scheme  clearly. 
They,  however,  didn't  count  for  so  much  then.  Nobody, 
you  see,  can  put  a  big  thing  through  by  working  it  all  out 
logically  beforehand.  It  appears  all  difficulties  if  you  look 
at  it  that  way.  One  has  to  take  his  chances  with  the  faith 
that  attempts  the  impossible  and  the  fire  that  carries  him 
through  an  obstacle  before  he  realizes  that  it  is  one.  Sewell 
had  the  faith  and  the  fire,  and  the  trouble  is  that  he  hasn't 


308  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

now.  There  has  been  a  big  change  in  the  man  since  he  came 
into  the  Green  River  country." 

Ingleby  could  not  controvert  this,  but  it  was  evident 
to  Leger,  who  watched  him  closely,  that  he  had  still  full 
confidence  in  Sewell,  and  was  as  far  as  ever  from  guessing 
at  any  reason  that  might  account  for  the  change  in  him. 

"Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "we  can't  back  down  now.  "What 
are  we  to  do  ?" 

'*Go  on.  Play  the  game  out  to  the  bitter  end.  I  think 
you  know  that  as  well  as  I  do." 

The  little  sign  Ingleby  made  seemed  to  imply  that  there 
was  nothing  more  to  be  said. 

"Isn't  it  time  Hetty  was  back?"  he  asked. 

He  opened  the  door,  and  the  cqld  struck  through  him 
like  a  knife.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  wind  astir,  and 
the  pines  cut  sharp  and  black  against  the  luminous  blueness 
of  the  night  without  the  faintest  quiver  of  a  spray,  for 
that  afternoon  an  Arctic  frost  had  descended  upon  the 
valley. 

"I'll  go  along  and  meet  her,"  he  said. 

It  was  ten  minutes  later  when  he  did  so.  She  was  plod- 
ding somewhat  wearily  up  the  climbing  trail,  a  shapeless 
figure  in  a  big  blanket-coat,  and  she  took  his  arm  and  leaned 
upon  it.  It  occurred  to  him  that  Hetty  l*ad  lost  some  of  her 
brightness,  and  had  been  looking  a  little  worn  of  late ;  but 
that  was  not  astonishing,  since  the  scanty  food  and  strain  of 
anxiety  were  telling  upon  everybody  in  the  Green  Eiver 
valley.  It  was  also  a  long  way  from  the  baker}'  to  the  hut 
where  Tomlinson  still  lay  helpless,  and  Ingleby  felt  very 
compassionate  as  the  girl,  who  said  very  little,  walked  by 
his  side.  When  at  last  he  opened  the  door  for  her  she 
sank  into  the  nearest  chair  and  turned  to  him  with  a  curi- 
ously listless  gesture. 

"Keep  it  open — wide,"  she  said. 

Ingleby  understood  her,  for  the  little  room  was  very 
hot,  and  the  sudden  change  of  temperature  from  the  frost 


SEWELL'S  DOWNFALL  309 

of  the  Northwest  had  once  or  twice  painfully  affected  him. 
Then  as  he  turned  again  he  heard  a  faint  cry  and  saw 
Hetty  clutch  at  the  table.  In  another  moment  her  chair 
went  over  with  a  crash,  and  he  caught  her  as  she  fell. 

"No !"  said  Leger  sharply.  "Don't  try  to  lift  her.  Lay 
her  flat." 

Ingleby  stupidly  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  when  Hetty 
lay  at  his  feet,  a  pitiful,  huddled  object  with  blanched 
hands  and  face,  beneath  the  snow-sprinkled  coat,  he  felt  an 
unnerving  thrill  of  apprehension  run  through  him  as  he 
looked  down  at  her.    Leger,  however,  kept  his  head. 

"I  don't  think  there's  anything  to  be  afraid  of,  but  we 
must  get  these  things  loose  about  her  neck,"  he  said. 
"Undo  that  hook  while  I  lift  her  head  a  little.  It's  pressed 
right  into  her  throat." 

Ingleby  dropped  on  one  knee,  and  with  clumsy  fingers 
loosed  the  blanket-cloak.  Then  he  stopped  a  moment,  and 
glanced  at  Leger,  who  had  slipped  one  arm  under  Hetty. 
As  she  lay,  her  garments  were  drawn  tight  about  her  neck 
and  shoulders. 

"Go  on!"  said  Leger  sharply.  "Get  that  collar  undone. 
Be  quick.    The  thing  is  choking  her." 

Ingleby  loosed  the  collar,  though  the  blood  crept  to  his 
face  as  the  bodice  fell  apart  from  Hetty's  white  neck.  Leger 
was,  however,  not  contented  yet. 

"Pull  those  hooks  out,  or  cut  the  stuff,"  he  said.  "What 
— are — you  stopping  for?" 

Ingleby  got  the  hooks  out,  that  is,  one  or  two  of  them, 
and  then  he  stopped  again,  while  Leger  saw  the  narrow 
black  ribbon  pressed  into  the  white  flesh  upon  which  his 
eyes  were  fixed. 

" I  don't  know  what  that  is,  but  pull  it  out,"  he  said.  "If 
you  can't  get  it  loose,  cut  the  thing." 

Ingleby  did  as  he  was  bidden,  but  there  was  no  need  to 
use  the  knife,  for,  as  Leger  moved  his  arm  a  little,  the 
ribbon  slackened,  and  a  little  trumpery  locket  which,  as 


310  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Ingleby  knew,  was  not  even  of  high-carat  gold,  slid  out 
and  lay  on  Hetty's  breast.  As  he  saw  it  all  the  blood  in 
his  body  seemed  to  rush  into  his  face.  Leger,  however, 
apparently  did  not  notice  that. 

"Get  me  the  old  jacket  yonder.  I  want  it  under  her 
shoulders,"  he  said. 

Ingleby  got  it  and  then  stood  leaning  on  the  table,  while 
Leger  still  knelt  by  his  sister's  side.  His  face  was  set  and 
anxious,  but  it  was  evident  that  he  was  equal  to  the  occa- 
sion, and  had  not  let  his  apprehensions  master  him.  It 
was,  however,  different  with  Ingleby,  for  now  there  was  no 
longer  anything  to  do  he  felt  that  he  was  quivering. 

"I'll  run  for  the  American  who's  looking  after  Tom- 
linson,"  he  said. 

Leger  made  a  little  sign.  "No.  Don't  go.  I  may  want 
you.  She'll  come  round  in  a  minute  or  two.  This  room 
must  have  been  seventy,  and  outside  it's  forty  below.  Where 
has  your  nerve  gone?" 

Ingleby  did  not  know.  It  had,  however,  certainly  de- 
serted him,  and  he  felt  for  once  scarcely  capable  of  doing 
anything  as  he  leaned  upon  the  table.  Then  Leger,  who 
slipped  the  locket  back  beneath  the  dress,  looked  up  at  him. 

"She  mightn't  like  to  think  we  had  seen  it,  and,  of 
course,  I  didn't  know  what  the  thing  was,"  he  said,  and  then 
added,  without  moving  his  eyes  from  Ingleby,  "I  wonder 
where  she  got  it?" 

Ingleby  said  nothing,  though  he  knew.  He  had  bought 
her  the  little  trinket  in  England  long  ago,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  that  Hetty  might  not  like  her  brother  to  know  it. 
Apart  from  that,  he  was  scarcely  sensible  of  anything 
clearly,  for  he  was  overwhelmed  by  a  horrible  confusion, 
and  he  looked  down  at  Leger  vacantly  until  a  little  shiver 
seemed  to  run  through  the  girl. 

"Now  see  if  you  can  find  the  coffee,"  said  his  comrade 
sharply.  "There  is  a  little  somewhere.  We  have  nothing 
else  to  give  her." 


SEWELL'S  DOWNFALL  311 

Ingleby  waited  another  moment  until  he  saw  a  faint 
tinge  of  colour  creep  into  Hetty's  face,  and  then  he  moved 
towards  the  box  of  stores,  dazed  from  relief.  He  was  busy 
for  a  moment  or  two,  and  when  he  turned  again  Hetty  was 
lying  in  the  low  hide-chair  with  her  brother's  arm  about  her 
and  the  blanket-coat  clutched  closely  to  her  neck.  Leger 
flashed  a  swift  glance  at  him  and  pointed  towards  tho  door. 

"I  think  it  would  be  better  if  you  got  out  of  this,"  he 
said. 

Ingleby  also  thought  so  and  went  forthwith.  He  felt 
that  he  could  not  meet  Hetty's  eyes  just  then,  and  he 
wanted  to  be  alone  and  get  rid  of  the  almost  insufferable 
confusion  that  afflicted  him.  He  had  never  made  love  to 
Hetty.  They  had  been  comrades,  almost  as  brother  and 
sister  to  each  other ;  but  she  had  worn  his  locket  hidden  on 
her  breast,  which  was,  he  surmised,  considerably  more  than 
a  sister  would  have  done.  Brotherly  tenderness  could  also, 
he  realized,  scarcely  account  for  the  uneasiness  he  had  felt 
and  the  relief  that  had  replaced  it;  but  it  appeared  quite 
out  of  the  question — in  fact,  a  thought  to  shrink  from — 
that  he  could  be  in  love  with  two  women.  It  was  as  un- 
pleasant to  contemplate  the  probability  of  two  women  being 
in  love  with  him.  He  could  find  no  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem as  he  swung  along  beneath  the  solemn  pines,  and  when 
he  reached  his  black  and  silent  shanty  his  brain  was  still  in 
a  whirl.  One  thing  alone  was  clear  to  him,  and  that  was 
that  Hetty  was  alive  and  apparently  recovering. 

In  the  meanwhile  Sewell  found  that  Coulthurst,  who,  it 
seemed,  had  gone  across  to  the  outpost,  had  not  yet  come 
home.  Grace  told  him  so  standing  in  the  doorway,  with  the 
sweeping  lines  of  her  figure  cut  in  black  against  the  light, 
and  though  she  could  see  the  admiration  in  his  face  he  could 
not  see  her  curious  little  smile.  Miss  Coulthurst  had  de- 
cided that  the  struggle  between  the  miners  and  their  rulers 
had  continued  long  enough,  and  it  was  time  she  made  some 
attempt  to  put  an  end  to  it. 


312  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

"Still,  I  really  think  you  might  come  in,"  she  said.  "He 
will  be  back  before  very  long." 

Sewell  came  in,  and  sat  down  opposite  her  across  the 
hearth,  and  Grace  glanced  covertly  at  her  little  watch 
which  hung  upon  the  wall.  Major  Coulthurst  was  punc- 
tuality in  itself,  and  she  realized  that  she  had  about  twenty 
minutes  in  which  to  do  a  good  deal.  Ingleby's  devotion  to 
her — and  it  was,  perhaps,  significant  that  she  felt  that  was 
the  best  description  of  it — was  evident;  but  there  were 
points  on  which  he  was  as  unyielding  and  impervious  to 
suggestion  as  a  rock;  while  Sewell,  with  his  more  delicately 
balanced  nature  and  wider  grasp  of  comprehension,  was,  in 
her  hands,  at  least,  as  malleable  clay. 

"How  long  is  this  very  unpleasant  state  of  affairs  to 
continue,  Mr.  Sewell?"  she  asked.  "You  promised  me  we 
should  have  quietness  this  winter." 

Sewell  made  a  little  deprecatory  gesture.  "Circum- 
stances were  too  strong  for  me,  but  I  have  done  what  I 
could.  Unpleasant  as  things  are,  they  might  be  worse — 
considerably." 

"It  is  a  little  difficult  to  see  how  they  could  be." 

She  had  straightened  herself  a  little,  and  sat  looking  at 
him  with  a  certain  quiet  and  half-scornful  imperiousness 
which  she  knew  became  her,  and  yet  was  not  altogether 
affected.  Sewell,  the  democrat,  understood  exactly  what 
she  meant,  and  knew  that  it  was  not  the  loneliness  or  physi- 
cal discomfort  the  blockade  entailed  that  she  was  tb inking 
of.  It  was  the  humbling  of  the  pride  of  the  ruling  caste 
to  which  she  belonged,  and  the  bold  denial  of  its  prerogative 
of  authority,  that  she  felt  the  most.  It  was  curious  that 
he  could  understand  this  and  sympathize  with  her  as 
Ingleby,  who  only  saw  and  did  the  obvious  thing,  could 
not  have  done. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  think  this  winter  might  have  seen 
an  undreamt-of  overturning  of  constituted  authority  and 
the  setting  up  of  what  you  were  once  pleased  to  call  a 


SEWELL'S  DOWNFALL  313 

■visionary  Utopia.  My  comrades  were  almost  ready  to  un- 
dertake it  a  little  while  ago.  In  fact,  they  only  wanted 
somebody  to  show  them  how." 

Grace  laughed  a  careless,  silvery  laugh,  which  would  have 
been  wasted  on  Ingleby.  There  was  no  scorn  in  it  now, 
only  amusement,  but  Sewell  nodded  comprehendingly  as 
he  looked  up  at  her. 

"Your  friends  would  naturally  never  believe  it,  but  I 
almost  think  the  inauguration  of  the  Utopia  would  have 
been  possible,"  he  said.  "At  least,  we  could  have  cleared 
the  ground  for  it." 

"There  are,"  said  Grace  suggestively,  "men  enough  in 
this  valley  to  make  about  one  company." 

"And  between  here  and  the  Arctic  sea  enough  to  make 
such  a  small  army-corps  of  marchers  and  marksmen  as  no 
country  has  ever  enrolled  beneath  its  banner.  A  very 
little  spark  in  the  right  place  will  kindle  a  great  blaze,  you 
know;  but  I  only  want  to  show  you  that  the  thing  might 
have  happened.    I  scarcely  think  you  need  expect  it  now." 

Grace  looked  at  him  with  a  curious  intensity.  "Then," 
she  said,  "you  were  afraid?" 

"No,"  answered  Sewell  slowly.  "I  was  not  sure  I  was 
strong  enough  to  control  the  forces  I  could  set  in  motion,  or 
that  the  result  of  unloosing  them  would  be — Utopia.  It 
seemed  too  big  a  risk.  That  was  one  reason — you  can,  per- 
haps, guess  the  other.  After  all,  one  has  to  admit  that 
there  are  certain  advantages  attached  to  the  direction  of 
affairs  by  the  more  highly  trained  divisions  of  society." 

"To  which,"  said  Grace,  with  a  soft  laugh,  "you,  of 
course,  belong.    What  made — you — a  democrat?" 

Sewell  made  a  little  gesture.  "Ah,"  he  said,  "that  is 
a  different  story,  and  one  I  hardly  care  to  go  into,  but 
perhaps  the  instincts  one  is  born  with  can't  be  entirely 
rooted  out.  I  am,  at  least,  not  the  iconoclast  I  was  when 
I  came  into  the  valley.  That,  however,  really  isn't  very 
Astonishing.    I  now  have  a  good  deal  to  lose." 


314.  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  with  grave  deference,  but  as 
like  to  like,  and  the  girl  recognized  this  and  what  his  words 
implied.  She  was,  however,  playing  a  game  then,  and 
another  swift  glance  at  her  watch  showed  her  that  she  had 
little  time  in  which  to  finish  it. 

"And  so,  for  fear  you  should  lose  it,  you  did  not  strike 
the  spark?  Well,  I  think  that  was  wise.  It  would  cer- 
tainly have  cost  you  one  thing  which  you  seem  to  value," 
she  said. 

This  was  vague,  but  it  seemed  to  Sewell  that  there  could 
be  only  one  meaning  to  it.  What  he  had  feared  to  lose 
was  not  yet  beyond  his  reach.  He  did  not  know  that  there 
were  in  the  girl  qualities  which  would  have  made  her  a 
successful  Pompadour.  Just  then  her  craving  for  influence 
was  irresistible ;  but  she  swept  away  from  the  topic  with  a 
swift  smile  expressive  only  of  the  indifference  which  of  all 
the  feelings  that  she  could  show  he  most  shrank  from. 

"Still,  to  be  practical,  how  could  the  blaze  have  spread?" 
she  said.  "It  would  have  smouldered  out  in  one  snow- 
bound valley,  and  in  the  spring  there  would  have  been  a 
very  inglorious  downfall  to  the  strictly  limited  Utopia." 

Sewell  was  nettled.  There  was,  though  it  was  seldom 
apparent,  vanity  in  him,  as  both  Hetty  and  Grace  had 
guessed.  Her  blame  he  could  have  borne,  but  there  was 
a  sting  in  her  smile.  That  she  should  think  him  a  vision- 
ary schemer  led  away  by  his  imagination,  and  without  the 
faculty  of  execution,  hurt  him. 

"The  blaze  would  have  leapt  the  snowy  barriers,"  he 
said.  "In  fact,  that  was  all  arranged.  Then  it  would  have 
flashed  from  range  to  range  across  to  the  Yukon.  One 
tolerably  big  bonfire  has  been  waiting  some  time  ready  for 
lighting.  I  had  only  to  send  the  message.  I  think  you 
know  why  I  didn't." 

Grace  saw  his  eyes,  and  understood  the  look  in  them. 
It  was  suggestive  of  passionate  admiration.  She  also  knew 
that  a  word  would  dispel  it,  perhaps  forever,  but  she  was 


SEWELL'S  DOWNFALL  315 

lost  in  the  game  now,  and  what  the  man  might  think  of  her 
afterwards  did  not  matter. 

"Then  there  is  a  road  out — beside  the  one  you  made  to 
the  settlement?    It  must  be  to  Westerhouse?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  answered  Sewell  simply.    "I  have  been  there." 

Grace  had  just  five  minutes  left,  and  a  task  before  her 
which,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  she  could  scarcely 
have  expected  to  accomplish ;  but  she  had  to  deal  with  a  man 
who  was,  after  all,  of  her  own  caste,  a  man  with  a  deep 
vein  of  vanity  in  him,  who  was  also  in  love  with  her.  The 
latter  fact  had  been  apparent  for  some  little  while,  and  she 
let  him  see  now  that  she  recognized  it,  while  during  the  next 
few  minutes  she  used  every  attribute  with  which  Nature  had 
endowed  her,  as  well  as  art  of  a  very  delicate  description. 
In  fact,  Grace  had  never  until  then  exactly  realized  her  own 
capabilities. 

Neither  Sewell  nor  she  could  afterwards  remember  all 
that  she  said,  and  in  fact  she  said  very  little,  though  that 
little  was  suggestive;  there  was  no  great  need  for  a  girl 
with  her  patrician  beauty  to  waste  words  unduly  when 
«he  had  her  eyes.  In  any  case,  Sewell  was  as  wax  beneath, 
her  hands,  and  when  she  had  finished  with  him  she  knew 
that  the  mountain  barrier  between  the  Green  Kiver  country 
and  Westerhouse  was  not  impassable,  and  how  the  one 
gorge  ran  that  traversed  it.  If  Sewell  fancied  she  appre- 
ciated the  passion  which  had  led  him  to  do  so  much  for  her, 
that  was  his  affair.  There  was,  however,  a  curious  glow 
in  his  eyes  when  he  rose  as  the  major  came  in. 


XXXI 

BROKEN  IDOLS 

/^OULTHTJRST  sat  with  a  big  hand  clenched  on  the 
table  and  a  grim  look  in  his  face  when  Sewell  left 
him,  nor  did  he  turn  his  head  until  Grace,  who  came  softly 
•ut  of  the  inner  room,  sat  down  close  by  him. 

"You  can't  come  to  terms,  father?"  she  said. 

"We  can't,"  and  there  was  an  ominous  sparkle  in  Coul- 
thurst's  eyes.  "I'm  not  sure  that  I  wish  to  now.  In  fact, 
I've  borne  quite  as  much  as  I'm  willing  to  put  up  with  from 
koth  of  them,  and  there's  some  reason,  after  all,  in  Es- 
mond's plan.  He'll  give  them  another  week,  and  then  we'll 
cut  our  way  in." 

"It's  not  your  affair,"  and  Grace  started  visibly.  "You 
are  the  Gold  Commissioner." 

Coulthurst  smiled.  "I  am  also  entitled  to  the  rank  of 
major,  and  that,  after  all,  means  a  good  deal." 

Grace  mastered  her  apprehension,  for  she  realized  the 
major's  point  of  view  and  indeed  concurred  with  it. 

"There  is  no  other  way  than  the  one  you  are  thinking 
of?"  she  asked. 

"There  are  two,"  said  Coulthurst  drily.  "We  can  sit 
still  and  starve,  or  march  out  and  leave  the  valley  in  the 
possession  of  the  miners  while  we  try  to  break  through  the 
snow.  Neither  of  them,  however,  commends  itself  to  Es- 
mond or  me." 

"Of  course!"  said  Grace,  with  a  little  flush  in  her  face, 
which,  however,  faded  suddenly.    "But  suppose  one  or  two 

816 


BROKEN  IDOLS  317 

of  the  troopers  were  killed  while  you  forced  the  barri- 
cade?" 

"Then,"  said  Coulthurst,  "our  friends  Ingleby  and 
Sewell  would  certainly  be  hung." 

The  major's  terseness  was  more  convincing  than  a  great 
deal  of  argument,  and  Grace  saw  what  she  must  do.  The 
pride  of  station  was  strong  in  her,  so  strong,  in  fact,  that 
she  would  never  have  come  down  to  Ingleby's  level.  It 
was  only  because  he  had  shown  that  he  could  force  his  way 
to  hers — at  least,  as  it  was  likely  to  be  regarded  in  that 
country — that  she  had  listened  to  him.  When  the  grapple 
became  imminent  that  pride  alone  would  have  driven  her 
to  take  part  with  constituted  authority  instead  of  what  she 
considered  the  democratic  rabble.  Then  there  was  the  peril 
to  her  father  and  to  Ingleby.  He  must  be  saved — against 
himself,  if  it  should  be  necessary. 

"There  are  troopers  at  Westerhouse  across  the  moun- 
tains ?"  she  asked. 

"I  believe  there  is  a  strong  detachment  and  a  very 
capable  officer." 

Grace  sat  silent  a  moment  before  she  spoke  again. 
"Father,"  she  said,  "I  want  you  to  make  a  bargain  with 
Eeggie  Esmond  for  me.  On  two  conditions  I  am  willing 
to  tell  you  how  he  can  bring  those  troopers  in.  You  are  to 
be  the  Gold  Commissioner  and  peacemaker,  but  nothing 
else.  As  there  will  be  two  police  officers,  they  will  not  want 
you  as  major.  Then  there  must  be  an  indemnity  for  Mr. 
Sewell  and  Ingleby." 

Coulthurst  gazed  at  her  in  blank  astonishment.  "You 
are  quite  serious?    You  mean  what  you  say?" 

"  Of  course !  I  can  tell  you — on  those  two  conditions — 
how  to  bring  the  "Westerhouse  troopers  in." 

Coulthurst  banged  his  hand  down  on  the  table.  "Then 
I  think  there  will  be  an  end  of  the  trouble — and  the  affair 
could  be  arranged  to  meet  your  views.  But  however  did 
you  find  the  way  into  the  Westerhouse  country  ?" 


318  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Grace  looked  at  him  steadily,  though  there  was  W  little 
more  colour  than  usual  in  her  face.  "That  does  not  con- 
cern Reggie  Esmond  or  you.  Hadn't  you  better  go  over 
and  see  him?" 

It  was  getting  late,  but  Coulthurst  went  straightway; 
and  as  the  result  of  it  Esmond  and  two  troopers  set  out 
with  a  hand-sled  early  next  morning  for  a  certain  peak 
that  overhung  a  gorge  through  the  barrier-range  that  cut 
off  the  Westerhouse  country.  He  could  not  pass  up  the 
valley,  but  that  was  no  great  matter  since  the  peak  could 
be  seen  leagues  away.  It  was  a  long  journey,  and  he  had 
intended  going  no  farther  than  the  gorge  with  the  troopers, 
but  he  was  not  destined  to  get  even  there. 

On  the  second  day  they  came  on  a  tree  lying  across  their 
path  with  its  branches  interlocked  among  the  shattered 
limbs  of  a  neighbor  so  that  the  great  trunk  was  sharply 
tilted,  an  obstacle  which  is  frequently  to  be  met  with  in 
that  country.  As  the  undergrowth  all  round  was  tall  and 
thick,  Esmond  and  one  trooper  swung  themselves  upon 
the  log  to  see  if  they  could  find  an  opening,  and  made 
their  way  along  it  until  they  came  to  a  branch  where  the 
trunk  was  high  above  the  ground.  The  trooper  crept  round 
it,  and  then,  as  Esmond  came  after  him,  there  was  a  crash 
and  a  shout,  and  the  trooper  who  had  stayed  below  saw 
his  officer  vanish  amidst  the  rattling  twigs.  It  was  several 
minutes  before  they  could  reach  him,  and  then  he  was  lying, 
with  a  grey  face,  and  with  one  leg  changed  in  its  usual 
contour  and  significantly  limp.  He  looked  up  with  a  grin 
of  pain  when  the  first  trooper  bent  over  him. 

"Gone  at  the  thigh-bone.  I  felt  it  snap,"  he  said. 
"Simpkin  will  get  me  home  on  the  sled,  but  you'll  go  on, 
Grieve,  and  tell  Captain  Slavin  how  we  are  fixed.  He  will 
come  in  with  every  man  available." 

"I  guess  I'd  better  see  you  safe  back,  sir,"  said  the 
trooper. 


BROKEN  IDOLS  319 

Esmond  stared  at  him  fiercely,  though  his  face  was  awry 
with  pain. 

"You'll  go  on,"  he  said. 

Then  he  winced,  and,  moving  a  little,  fell  over  with  his 
face  in  the  snow,  and,  because  the  boughs  he  had  fallen 
among  were  thick,  it  was  two  hours  before  the  troopers 
got  him  out  and  on  the  sled.  It  was  not  altogether  aston- 
ishing that  they  managed  to  compound  the  fracture  during 
the  operation.  After  that  Grieve  pushed  on  alone,  and 
he  was,  as  it  happened,  from  the  wild  bush  of  Northern  On- 
tario, which,  though  the  trees  and  rocks  are  smaller,  is  a 
very  similar  country.  In  the  meanwhile  Simpkin  headed 
back  for  the  valley  with  the  sled,  and  it  was  not  his  fault 
that  three  nights  of  bitter  frost  overtook  him  on  the  way. 
Indeed,  if  he  had  not  been  an  exceptionally  resolute  man, 
inured  to  fatigue,  it  is  very  probable  that  Esmond  would 
have  frozen  before  they  reached  the  outpost.  On  the  morn- 
ing after  they  got  there  a  trooper  appeared  before  the 
miners'  barricade  without  his  carbine  and  hailed  the  men 
on  guard. 

"Have  you  brought  along  the  American  who  fixed  up 
Jackson's  foot  when  he  smashed  his  toes,  boys?"  he  asked. 

The  man  who  had  nursed  Tomlinson  climbed  up  on  the 
log.    "I'm  here,"  he  said.    "Is  anybody  wanting  me?" 

"I  guess  Captain  Esmond  does,"  said  the  trooper.  "He 
fell  off  a  log  two  or  three  days  ago,  and  his  leg-bone  has 
come  right  through.  The  corporal  can't  get  it  back  inside 
him.  If  you  can  see  your  way  to  do  anything,  we'd  be  much 
obliged  to  you." 

"Did  Captain  Esmond  send  you?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  trooper,  "he  didn't.  He's  way  too 
sick  to  worry  about  anything." 

The  American  smiled  at  Ingleby,  who  stood  beneath  him. 
"It's  very  probable!  A  compound  fracture  of  the  femur 
is  apt  to  prove  rather  serious  at  this  temperature,  especially 
if  our  friend  the  corporal  has  been  trying  to  reduce  it.    We 


320  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

don't  owe  the  man  anything,  but  I  guess  Fd  better  go 
along." 

"Of  course !"  said  Ingleby  simply,  and  in  another  minute 
the  doctor  was  on  his  way  to  the  outpost  with  the  trooper. 

It  was  evening  when  he  came  back  with  news  of  Es- 
mond's condition,  which,  it  appeared,  was  serious,  and 
Sewell  forthwith  set  out  for  the  Gold  Commissioners 
dwelling.  He  did  not  see  Grace  at  all,  and  Coulthurst 
granted  him  only  a  two  minutes'  interview. 

"It  is  quite  out  of  the  question  that  I  should  worry 
Captain  Esmond  now,"  he  said.  "Unless  you  are  prepared 
to  make  an  unconditional  surrender,  which  I  should 
strongly  recommend,  there  is  nothing  I  can  do  for  you." 

"That,"  replied  Sewell,  "is  about  the  last  thing  we 
should  think  of  doing." 

He  came  back,  and  related  what  had  passed  to  Leger  and 
Ingleby.    The  latter  looked  thoughtful  when  he  heard  him. 

"One  could  almost  fancy  by  the  change  in  his  attitude 
that  the  major  had  something  up  his  sleeve,"  he  said. 

"The  same  thing  occurred  to  me,  though  I  don't  see 
what  it  could  be.  The  accident  to  Esmond  has  probably 
upset  him.    Anyway,  we  have  our  own  course  to  consider 

BOW." 

"Since  Esmond's  not  likely  to  worry  us  for  awhile,  we 
had  better  send  all  the  men  we  can  spare  down  for  pro- 
visions, for  one  thing,"  said  Leger. 

It  was  decided  on,  and  still  Ingleby  looked  grave. 

"That's  all  right  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  it's  only  a  side 
*  issue,  after  all,"  he  said.  "This  state  of  things  can't  con- 
tinue indefinitely,  and  Tomlinson  doesn't  seem  to  be  getting 
much  better,  or  we  could  have  simplified  the  affair  by 
getting  him  out  of  the  valley.  The  winter's  wearing 
through,  and  if  nothing  is  done  before  the  thaw  comes  we'll 
be  in  the  troopers'  hands.  In  the  meanwhile  there's  an 
unpleasant  probability  of  the  freighter  or  somebody  else 
finding  his  way  in  now  we've  broken  out  a  trail.     Have 


BROKEN  IDOLS  321 

you  thought  about  asking  the  boys  at  Westerhouse  to  join 
us?" 

"No,"  said  Sewell,  with  a  momentary  trace  of  embarrass- 
ment. "There  are  a  good  many  reasons  why  it  wouldn't 
be  convenient." 

"I  should  like  to  hear  one  or  two  of  them,"  said  Leger 
bluntly. 

Sewell  managed  to  think  of  several  reasons,  but  none  of 
them  appeared  altogether  satisfactory  when  his  comrades 
considered  them.  It  was,  however,  evident  that  he  was 
determined  on  not  sending  to  Westerhouse,  and  they  had 
to  be  content,  though  Leger  looked  very  grave  when  the 
conference  broke  up. 

"  One  could  almost  have  fancied  that  Sewell  had  lost  his 
nerve,  and  if  I  could  send  Hetty  out  of  the  valley  it  would 
be  a  big  weight  off  my  mind,"  he  said. 

The  same  thought  had  occurred  to  Ingleby,  and  it 
troubled  him  again  that  night  as  he  kept  his  watch  behind 
the  tree,  for  he  could  not  altogether  understand  the  tense 
anxiety  he  felt  about  Hetty.  She  had  scarcely  been  out  of 
his  thoughts  since  the  night  she  fainted  at  the  bakery, 
which,  considering  that  he  was  in  love  with  Grace  Coul- 
thurst,  appeared  an  almost  unnatural  thing.  There  was 
no  doubt  that  he  was  in  love  with  the  commissioner's 
daughter,  he  assured  himself.  All  his  hopes  and  projects 
for  the  future  were  built  upon  the  fact;  but  he  was  com- 
mencing to  realize  vaguely  that  she  appealed,  for  the  most 
part,  to  his  intellect,  while  he  felt  for  Hetty  a  curious, 
unreasoning  tenderness  which  was  quite  apart  from  ad- 
miration of  her  or  her  qualities.  He  puzzled  over  it  that 
night,  sitting  still  while  the  men  slept  about  him  under  the 
stars,  and  then  gave  it  up  as  beyond  solution  when  one  of 
them  relieved  him. 

In  the  meanwhile  Trooper  Grieve  had  found  the  gorge 
through  the  barrier-range,  and  was  pushing  on  through 
dim  fir  forests  and  over  snowy  hillsides  for  Westerhouse. 


322  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Esmond  lay  half-insensible  in  the  outpost,  for  fever  and 
dangerous  inflammation  had  supervened;  but  nobody  told 
the  American  where  the  lieutenant  was  going  when  he  fell 
from  the  tree  or  anything  about  Trooper  Grieve.  There 
was  thus  no  apparent  change  in  the  state  of  affairs  until 
one  night,  when  every  man  who  could  be  spared  was  away 
at  the  settlement,  a  stranger  worn  with  travel  was  brought 
in  by  two  miners.  Sewell  was  standing  with  the  others 
about  the  fire  behind  the  tree,  and  Ingleby  saw  the  colour 
sink  from  his  face  when  it  was  told  them  that  the  stranger 
was  from  Westerhouse. 

"You  have  got  to  do  something  right  away,"  said  the 
visitor.  "Slavin's  coming  in  with  every  trooper  he  can 
raise.  He  went  round  the  way  the  trooper  came,  and  I 
pushed  on  by  the  trail  Sewell  told  us  of  to  get  in  ahead  of 
him.    A  few  of  the  boys  are  coming  along  behind  me." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  astonishment  and  consternation, 
and  then  a  somewhat  impressive  silence,  which  Leger  broke. 

"  You  mean  that  one  of  the  Green  Eiver  troopers  reached 
Westerhouse?"  he  said. 

"That's  just  what  I  do  mean.    Your  man  sent  him." 

Leger  looked  hard  at  Sewell,  who  stood  back  a  little  in 
the  shadow  now. 

"It  isn't  quite  clear  how  he  found  the  way,  but,  after  all, 
we  needn't  worry  about  that  in  the  meanwhile,"  he  said. 
"You  are  still  our  acknowledged  leader,  Mr.  Sewell.  Hadn't 
you  better  ask  him  a  question  or  two  ?  We  want  to  under- 
stand the  thing." 

Sewell  stood  still  for  almost  a  minute,  and  the  men,  who 
were  tensely  impatient,  wondered  at  it  and  the  hardness 
of  Leger's  voice.  Then  he  sat  down  on  a  branch  where 
the  wood-smoke  drifted  between  them  and  him. 

"Try  to  tell  us  as  clearly  as  you  can  what  happened,"  he 
said. 

"Well,"  said  the  stranger,  "one  of  the  Green  River  troop- 
ers came  in  badly  played  out,  and  when  he  asked  us  tf9ere 


BROKEN  IDOLS  323 

the  outpost  was  we  took  him  along.  After  what  you'd  told 
n?  we  guessed  it  meant  trouble  for  you.  It  was  dark  then, 
and  one  of  us  crawled  round  to  the  little  back  window ;  but 
a  trooper  came  round  the  house,  and  we  lit  out  kind  of 
quietly  for  the  bush.  Then  a  trooper  started  out  on  the 
trail  as  hard  as  he  could  hit  it,  and  'bout  half  an  hour  later 
Slavin  came  out  in  front  of  the  outpost.  'I'm  going  away 
by  and  by — for  my  health — but  I've  sent  to  Clatterton 
Creek  for  two  or  three  more  policemen,  and  if  you  start  any 
blame  circus  while  I'm  away,  I'll  see  the  boys  who  made  it 
are  sorry  for  themselves/  he  said." 

"The  boys  took  it  quietly?"  asked  Ingleby. 

"Yes,"  said  the  stranger.  "That's  what  they  did.  You 
see,  the  folks  in  Victoria  had  moved  on  Eshelby,  and  the 
new  man  was  doing  what  he  could  for  us  within  reason. 
'.Anyway,  we  hadn't  heard  from  you,  and  the  boys  weren't 
going  to  make  trouble  for  nothing  when  Slavin  was  there." 

Again  Leger  glanced  at  Sewell,  who  said  nothing,  and 
then  made  a  little  sign  to  the  speaker.  "Nobody  would 
expect  it  of  them,"  he  said.    "Get  on." 

"Well,"  said  the  stranger,  "when  Slavin  and  his  troopers 
lit  out  quietly  'bout  an  hour  after,  we  got  our  packs  made 
and  came  on  after  them.  That  is,  a  few  of  us  who  hadn't 
struck  any  dirt  that  was  worth  the  washing.  We  were 
willing  to  take  a  hand  in  if  we  were  wanted,  because  we 
heard  of  Hall  Sewell  before  he  came  to  Westerhouse.  If 
he  was  in  a  tight  place,  we  figured  we'd  stand  behind  him. 
He'd  often  done  what  he  could  for  men  like  us." 

Sewell  made  no  sign,  but  leaned  back,  a  shadowy  figure, 
against  the  tree,  and  there  was  something  in  his  silence  that 
set  Ingleby 's  nerves  on  edge. 

"We  kept  'most  a  league  behind  Slavin,  and  we  had  to 
get  a  move  on  at  that,"  continued  the  speaker.  "He  wasn't 
wasting  time.  Then  when  we'd  got  through  the  range 
he  broke  off  to  the  north,  and  we  figured  that  was  the  way 


324  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

the  trooper  came.  We  let  him  go,  and  came  right  on  by 
the  trail  Sewell  told  us  of." 

"How  many  are  there  of  you?"  asked  Leger. 

"Eight.  They're  'most  as  cleaned  out  of  grub  and 
money  as  I  am.  We'd  have  sent  you  a  hundred  if  you'd 
•wanted  them  soon  after  Sewell  came." 

Ingleby  laughed  harshly,  a  jarring,  hopeless  laugh,  and 
there  was  a  murmur  from  the  men. 

"Our  hand's  played  out.  The  contract  was  too  big  for 
us,"  said  one  of  them.  "What  d'you  figure  on  doing — 
now — Mr.  Sewell?" 

Sewell  rose  slowly,  as  though  it  cost  him  an  effort,  and, 
face  to  face  with  them,  stood  where  the  firelight  fell  upon 
him.  The  bronze  had  faded  from  his  cheeks,  and  his  glance 
was  vacillating. 

"Nothing  in  the  meanwhile,  boys,"  he  said.  "In  fact, 
there  is  nothing  we  can  do  but  try  to  extort  some  trifling 
concession  from  Slavin  before  we  surrender  to-morrow." 

He  stopped  a  moment,  and  looked  at  them  with  steady- 
ing eyes.  "If  we  had  Westerhouse  behind  us  I  would  have 
asked  you  to  make  a  fight  for  it.  It  would  at  least  have 
been  an  easy  way  out  of  the  tangle  for  one  of  us — but  it 
would  only  mean  useless  bloodshed  as  it  is.  I  can't  get 
you  into  further  trouble,  boys." 

His  voice  had  been  growing  hoarser,  and  there  was  an 
uncomfortable  silence  when  he  stopped.  This  was  not  what 
the  men  had  expected,  and  everybody  seemed  to  feel  that 
there  was  something  wrong.  Then  Ingleby  looked  at  Leger 
with  a  little  bitter  smile. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "we  have  made  our  protest,  and,  as 
any  one  else  would  have  foreseen,  have  found  it  useless. 
Established  order  is  too  strong  for  us.  I  never  felt  of 
quite  so  little  account  as  I  do  to-night." 

Leger  nodded  sympathetically.  "That,"  he  said,  "isn't, 
aiter  all,  of  any  particular  consequence — and  I  scarcely 


BROKEN  IDOLS  825 

think  it  was  quite  our  fault.  Why  didn't  Sewell  send  over 
to  Westerhouse?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Ingleby.    "It  doesn't  matter  now." 

"Have  you  asked  yourself  how  the  trooper  found  his  way 
across  the  range?" 

Ingleby  turned  round  on  him  suddenly.  "What  do  you 
mean  by  that?" 

"If  you  can't  find  an  answer,  I  think  you  should  ask 
Sewell.    It  seems  to  me  you  are  entitled  to  know." 

Ingleby  met  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  then  the  blood 
rushed  to  his  face  as  he  rose.  He  said  nothing,  but  he 
saw  Sewell  leave  the  fire,  and,  turning  abruptly,  he  moved 
on  behind  him  up  the  little  trail  to  the  bakery,  though  he 
made  no  effort  to  overtake  him.  It  was  very  dark  beneath 
the  pines,  and  he  felt  that  he  must  see  the  man  he  had 
believed  in.  It  seemed  a  very  long  while  before  he  reached 
the  bakery  and,  going  in  quietly,  saw  Hetty  regarding 
Sewell  with  a  flash  of  scornful  anger  in  her  eyes. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "it's  perfectly  plain  to  me!  The  girl 
tricked  you.    I  knew  she  would." 

Then  she  started  as  she  saw  Ingleby  in  the  doorway, 
though  the  flush  in  her  cheeks  grew  deeper  and  the  little 
vindictive  glow  in  her  eves  plainer  still. 

"You  heard  me,  Walter?  Well,  he  knows  she  did. 
Look  at  him,"  she  said. 

"If  you  will  go  away  for  about  five  minutes,  Hetty, 
I  shall  be  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Ingleby  quietly.  "Mr. 
SSewell  has  something  to  say  to  me." 

Hetty  swung  round  and  swept  out  of  the  room,,  and, 
when  the  door  closed  behind  her,  Sewell  sat  down  at  the 
table,  and  Ingleby  stood  in  front  of  him.  His  face  was 
grim,  and  his  lips  were  tightly  set. 

"Well?"  he  said  at  length. 

Sewell  made  a  little  gesture.  "I  can't  admit  that  Hetty 
was  quite  correct  in  one  respect,"  he  said.  "It  was  my  mad 
impulsiveness  misled  me." 


326  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

"I  want  to  be  quite  clear,"  said  Ingleby  in  a  low,  even 
voice.  "You  told  Miss  Coulthurst  the  way  to  the  Wester- 
house  Gully?" 

"I  did.  If  I  were  not  sure  that  you  knew  it  already,  I 
would  never  have  admitted  it  to  you." 

A  little  grey  patch  showed  in  Ingleby's  cheek,  and  the 
pain  in  his  face  was  unmistakable,  while  Sewell  clenched 
one  hand  on  the  table  as  he  looked  at  him. 

"Walter,"  he  said,  "what  is  Miss  Coulthurst  to  you?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Ingleby,  with  a  very  bitter  laugh. 
"I  am  not  sure  that  she  is  anything  whatever  to  me.  I, 
however,  asked  her  to  marry  me  not  so  very  long  ago,  and 
she  led  me  to  believe  that  when  circumstances  were  more 
propitious  she  might  do  so." 

Sewell  seemed  to  gasp,  and  his  hand  closed  more  tightly 
on  the  table ;  but  he  said  nothing,  and  Ingleby  spoke  again. 

"I  would,"  he  said,  "have  believed  in  you,  in  spite  of 
everything — but  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by  reproach- 
ing you.  Hetty  was  right,  as  usual,  and  you  never  belonged 
to  us,  you  know.  There  is,  however,  something  to  be  done, 
since  it  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  better  to  keep  out  of 
the  affair  the  girl  who  was  apparently  willing  to  look  with 
favour  on  both  of  us.  You  must  be  out  of  the  valley  before 
daylight  to-morrow." 

Sewell  stood  up  slowly  and  took  a  carefully  folded  packet 
from  his  pocket.  "I  will  be  gone  in  half  an  hour,"  he  said. 
"Take  care  of  these.  They  are  the  leaves  that  were  under 
the  bandage  on  Probyn's  body,  and  may  go  a  little  way 
towards  clearing  Tomlinson.  I  will  not  offer  to  shake  hands 
with  you,  Walter ;  but  I  would  like  you  to  believe  that  I  was 
sincere  enough  when  I  came  into  the  valley.  If  it  is  any 
consolation  to  you,  my  punishment  will  be  heavy.  My  name 
will  be  a  byword  after  what  I  have  done,  and  the  work  I 
once  believed  in  must  be  left  to  clean-handed  men." 

Ingleby  took  the  packet.  "I  could  have  forgiven  you 
for  stealing  Miss  Coulthurst's  favour  from  me — since  I 


BROKEN  IDOLS  327 

scarcely  think  it  was  ever  mine — but,  just  now,  at  least,  I 
can't  forgive  the  rest,"  he  said. 

Sewell  made  no  answer,  and  when  he  went  out  Ingleby 
sat  down  limply  at  the  table  and,  with  his  chin  in  his  hand, 
gazed  at  the  fire.  For  the  time  even  his  physical  strength 
seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  him.  All  his  faith  had  been 
given  one  man  and  one  woman,  and  now  it  was  clear  that 
both  had  betrayed  him,  and  through  him  the  miners  who 
had  placed  their  confidence  in  him.  He  did  not  know  how 
long  he  sat  there,  but  he  started  suddenly  as  he  felt  a  gentle 
touch  on  his  shoulder  and  saw  Hetty  standing  beside  him. 

"I  am  so  sorry,  Walter.    Is  it  very  hard?"  she  said. 

Ingleby  took  her  hand  and  held  it. 

"I  believe  you  are  sorry,"  he  said.  "After  all,  old  friends 
are  best.  I  have  been  a  colossal  idiot,  Hetty,  and  it  does 
hurt  a  little  to  have  the  recognition  of  a  fact  of  that  kind 
suddenly  forced  on  one.  Still,  I  must  go  back  to  the  boys 
now.  There  are  several  little  points  that  must  be  decided 
before  to-morrow." 


XXXII 

HIS  APPOINTED  STATION 

A  FAINT  light  was  creeping  across  the  snow  when  Ing- 
leby  rose  from  his  bed  of  cedar  twigs,  behind  the 
log,  and  stood  up  shivering.  It  was  very  cold,  and  most 
of  his  companions  were  still  sleeping,  though  there  were 
more  of  them  than  there  had  been  the  night  before.  During 
the  darkness  a  handful  of  strangers  had  come  limping  in, 
and  one  of  them  had  told  him  a  somewhat  astonishing 
story  about  Trooper  Probyn.  He  could  grasp  the  sig- 
nificance of  it,  but  that  was  all,  for  though  the  rapid  was 
partly  ice-bound  now,  one  white  sluice  of  water  still  frothed 
about  the  tree,  and  the  sound  it  made  seemed  to  keep  his 
thoughts  from  crystallizing.  He  was,  however,  glad  of  the 
distraction. 

A  man  who  flung  down  an  armful  of  fuel  stopped  and 
shook  two  or  three  of  his  comrades,  who  got  up  and 
stretched  themselves  before  they  set  about  preparing  their 
morning  meal.  The  pines  had  grown  sharper  in  outline  by 
the  time  it  was  finished,  and  the  snow  beneath  them  had 
changed  in  hue  and  was  now  a  flat,  lifeless  white;  and, 
though  most  of  the  men  had  risen,  the  stillness  was  more 
impressive  than  ever.  TDgleby  had  grown  accustomed  to  the 
roar  of  the  river  and  could  have  heard  the  slightest  sound 
through  its  pulsations;  but  there  was  nothing  for  him  to 
hear  beyond  the  sharp  crackle  of  the  fire  and  the  restless 
movements  of  one  or  two  of  his  companions.  The  rest  were 
expectantly  watching  the  man  upon  the  log;  but  he  stood 
Motionless,  with  his  face  turned  steadfastly  down  the  valley. 

328 


v 


HIS  APPOINTED  STATION  329 

Ingleby,  however,  felt  the  tension  less  than  he  might 
have  done  under  different  circumstances.  The  game  was 
up,  and  he  had  no  doubt  that  the  law  he  had  defied  would 
crush  him  for  his  contumacy;  but  that,  after  all,  seemed 
of  no  great  moment  then.  His  faith  was  shattered,  his 
hopes  were  gone,  and  it  only  remained  for  him  to  exculpate 
his  comrades  as  far  as  he  could  and  face  his  downfall  be- 
fittingly.  He  took  out  his  pipe  and  lighted  it,  but  the 
tobacco  seemed  tasteless,  and  he  let  it  go  out  again,  and 
sat  listening  until  the  man  upon  the  log  raised  a  warn- 
ing hand,  and  a  faint  tramp  of  feet  came  out  of  the  silence. 
There  was  a  rhythm  in  it,  and  he  knew  that  Slavin  had 
come  in  with  the  troopers  from  Westerhouse.  The  men 
also  heard  it,  and  Ingleby  stood  up  as  they  glanced  at  him. 

"I'm  afraid  you  have  gained  very  little  by  listening  to 
Sewell  or  me,  boys,  but  it  might  save  confusion  if  you  still 
leave  me  to  do  what  I  can  for  you,"  he  said.  "The  police 
will  be  here  in  two  or  three  minutes,  and  somebody  must 
speak  to  them." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  from  the  men,  which  sug- 
gested sympathy  with  and  confidence  in  him.  Then  one 
of  them,  who  was  an  American,  waved  his  hand. 

"Mr.  Ingleby  will  go  right  ahead,  and  he'll  find  us  be- 
hind him  whatever  he  does,"  he  said.  "It  isn't  his  fault 
this  thing  didn't  quite  pan  out  as  we  had  figured.  He's 
here  just  where  he's  wanted,  to  see  it  out  with  us,  and,  any- 
way, it's  a  big,  cold  bluff  he  and  the  rest  of  us — a  handful 
of  placer  miners  of  no  account — have  put  up  on  the  British 
Empire.  We're  beat,  but  the  man  who  wants  anything 
has  got  to  show  he  means  to  have  it,  and  they'll  listen  to 
the  others  because  we  shut  our  fist." 

Again  there  was  a  murmur,  harsh  but  expressive,  and 
the  man  upon  the  log  looked  down. 

"They're  taking  front  among  the  firs,"  he  said.  "There's 
a  stranger,  who  must  be  Slavin,  with  them.  I  guess  they'll 
be  wanting  you." 


330  DELILAH    OF    THE    SNOWS 

He  sprang  down,  and  Ingleby  climbed  up  on  the  log. 
There  was  a  suggestive  jingle  and  clatter  among  the  trees, 
where  dusty  shapes  flitted  in  the  shadows;  but  two  men 
were  moving  forward  across  the  open  strip  of  snow  where 
the  light  was  clearer,  and  Ingleby  recognized  one  of  them 
as  Coulthurst.  The  other  was  a  stranger  who  wore  a  some- 
what ragged  fur-coat  over  his  uniform.  They  stopped  near 
the  barricade,  and  Coulthurst  looked  at  Ingleby.  The  latter 
stood  erect  and  very  still,  with  the  smoke  of  the  fire  rising 
in  a  pale  blue  column  behind  him. 

"I  presume  you  are  there  to  speak  for  your  comrades?" 
said  the  major. 

"Your  surmise  is  quite  correct,"  said  Ingleby. 

Coulthurst  turned  towards  his  companion.  "This  is 
Captain  Slavin,  in  charge  of  the  police  detachment  at 
Western  ouse.  He  has  come  in  with  enough  of  his  men  to 
make  any  attempt  to  oppose  him  likely  to  result  in  dis- 
aster to  yourselves.  Captain  Esmond  being  quite  incapable 
of  duty,  this  affair  is  in  his  hands." 

Ingleby  raised  his  shapeless  hat,  and  wondered  if  this 
had  been  intended  as  a  hint  that  he  had  no  longer  Es- 
mond's rancour  to  fear;  but  the  police  officer,  who  looked 
at  him  sharply,  made  no  sign  of  noticing  the  salute. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what  does  Captain  Slavin  want?" 

"In  the  first  place,  the  unconditional  surrender  of  Sewell, 
Leger,  and  yourself." 

"That  can  be  counted  on,  so  far  as  Leger  and  I  are  con- 
cerned. Sewell  is  no  longer  in  the  valley.  What  comes 
next?" 

"The  dispersing  of  the  men  you  have  with  you." 

"Which  implies  the  arrest  of  Tomlinson?"  asked  Ingleby. 

"It  does,  naturally." 

"Well,"  said  Ingleby,  "we  have  heard  your  demands, 
and  now  we  would  like  to  know  what  you  have  to  offer." 

"That,"  said  Coulthurst,  "is  simply  answered.  Nothing 
whatever.    I  may,  however,  say  that,  as  usual  in  an  affair 


HIS  APPOINTED  STATION  331 

of  the  kind,  proceedings  will  only  be  taken  against  the 
recognized  leaders — yourself,  Sewell,  and  Leger — and  that 
Captain  Slavin  intends  to  hold  an  inquiry  on  the  spot  into 
the  death  of  Trooper  Probyn." 

Slavin,  at  whom  he  glanced,  made  a  little  gesture  of 
concurrence. 

"Major  Coulthurst  is  correct,"  he  said.  "You  have, 
however,  to  understand  that  the  inquiry  is  in  no  way  a 
concession.  I  have,  as  it  happens,  some  information  bear- 
ing on  the  case  which  has  not  come  into  Captain  Esmond's 
possession.    That  is  all.    Now,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

Ingleby  spent  little  time  in  consideration.  The  attitude 
of  the  two  officers  was  just  what  he  had  expected  it  would  be. 
They  could  make  no  concession ;  but  Coulthurst  had  never- 
theless conveyed  the  impression  that  they  would  by  no 
means  proceed  to  extremities. 

"In  ten  minutes  Leger  and  I  will  give  ourselves  up,  and 
you  will  not  find  a  man  behind  the  tree,"  he  said.  "That 
is,  on  condition  that  you  wait  with  your  men  among  the 
firs  yonder  until  the  time  is  up." 

Slavin  made  a  sign  of  comprehension,  and  when  he 
moved  back  with  Coulthurst,  Ingleby  turned  to  the  miners. 

"It's  all  fixed  now,  boys,"  he  said.  "Leger  and  I  de- 
cided last  night  to  give  ourselves  up.  You  couldn't  have 
prevented  us,  and  all  we  wanted  for  Tomlinson  was  a 
straight  inquiry  on  the  spot.  Now,  I  want  you  to  slip  away 
quietly,  and  hang  your  rifles  up  where  you  keep  them. 
You  have  to  remember  that  the  police  don't  know  who  held 
up  the  outpost,  and  have  nothing  definite  against  anybody 
but  myself  and  Leger." 

The  men  went  reluctantly,  and  when  the  ten  minutes 
had  expired  Ingleby  and  Leger  climbed  down  from  the  log. 
Two  troopers  accompanied  them  to  the  outpost,  where, 
when  Ingleby  had  spoken  a  few  words  to  Slavin,  they  were 
left  to  their  reflections  for  several  hours.  Then  there  was 
a  tramp  of  feet  outside,  and  a  trooper  led  them  into  the 


DELILAH   OF.   THE    SNOWS 

adjoining  room  where  Coulthurst  and  SJavin  sat.  The  door 
was  open,  and  the  corporal  and  a  cluster  of  miners  stood 
just  outside.  A  carbine  lay  upon  the  table  in  front  of 
Slavin,  who  turned  to  the  miners  as  Ingleby  came  in. 

"I  want  you  to  understand  that  this  is  not  a  trial,  boys," 
he  said.  "It's  an  inquiry  into  the  death  of  Trooper  Probyn, 
and  I  expect  the  truth  from  you.  I  have  seen  Prospector 
Tomlinson,  and  I'll  now  ask  the  corporal  to  give  us  his  ac- 
count of  what  happened  the  night  Probyn  disappeared." 

There  was  a  little  movement  among  the  miners,  and  one 
or  two  of  them  glanced  significantly  at  Ingleby.  Slavin, 
it  seemed,  had  already  gained  their  confidence,  and  tlioy 
felt  that  if  Tomlinson  was  sent  down  for  trial  it  would  be 
because  he  was  guilty.  Then  the  corporal  told  his  story 
briefly,  and  admitted  that  Ingleby  had  differed  from  him 
concerning  the  locality  in  which  one  of  the  shots  had  ap- 
parently been  fired.  After  that  several  of  the  miners  nar- 
rated how  they  had  assisted  to  draw  Probyn  from  the  river, 
and  the  discovery  of  the  bullet-wound  in  him. 

Slavin,  who  listened  to  them  quietly,  nodded  and  signed 
to  Ingleby.  "You  didn't  agree  with  the  corporal  that  the 
shots  were  fired  in  the  same  place?" 

"No,  sir,"  said  Ingleby.  "One  of  them,  I  feel  certain, 
came  from  quite  an  opposite  direction.  The  corporal  was 
busy  at  the  time,  or  he  would  have  recognized  it." 

"The  men  who  have  just  spoken  were  correct  in  their 
account  of  what  Sewell  did  when  Trooper  Probyn  had  been 
taken  out  of  the  water?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Did  Sewell  remove  anything  from  the  body?" 

"He  did,"  and  Ingleby  took  a  little  packet  from  his 
pocket  and  opened  it.  "These  leaves.  They  had  evidently 
been  placed  upon  the  wound.  He  said  ProbjTi  could  not 
have  placed  them  there  himself,  and  they  were  what  the 
Indians  often  used  to  stanch  a  flow  of  blood." 

Slavin  glanced  at  the  desiccated  fragments,  and  turned 


HIS  APPOINTED  STATION  333 

to  the  miners.  "Have  any  of  yon  heard  of  the  Indians 
nsing  a  plant  for  that  purpose?" 

"I  guess  I  have,"  said  one.  "One  of  them  tried  to  fix 
up  a  partner  of  mine,  who'd  cut  himself  chopping,  with  the 
thing.    It  didn't  seem  to  work  on  a  white  man." 

Slavin  nodded.  "I  believe  there  is  such  a  plant,"  he 
said.  "Now,  so  far  as  we  have  gone,  circumstances  seem 
to  point  to  Probyn  having  been  shot  by  a  man  who  after- 
wards tried  to  save  him.  He  used  a  plant  that  only  the 
Indians  seem  to  believe  in.  Come  right  in,  Corporal.  Do 
you  recognize  this  carbine?" 

A  trace  of  astonishment  crept  into  the  corporal's  face  as 
he  took  up  the  weapon. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  said.  "It's  Probyn's.  Am  I  quite  sure? 
I  know  the  number,  and  that  dint  under  the  barrel.  He 
fell  and  struck  it  on  a  rock  one  day  when  I  was  with  him." 

"Well,"  said  Slavin,  who  took  out  a  little  book,  "that's 
all  I  want  from  you.  Xow,  boys,  this  inquiry  is  in  my 
hands ;  but  I  don't  know  of  any  reason  I  shouldn't  read  you 
a  little  statement  that  was  made  on  oath  to  me  by  a  prospec- 
tor who  brought  this  carbine  into  Westerhouse  Gully. 

"  'I  was  working  on  a  bench-claim  back  under  the  range 
when  an  Indian  came  along,'  he  said.  'He  had  a  carbine 
with  him.  Offered  to  sell  it  me  for  tea  and  flour,  as  he  was 
lighting  out  of  the  country.  This  is  just  what  he  told  me. 
He  was  hired  to  take  two  troopers  from  Green  Eiver  across 
the  range,  and  was  waiting  for  them  just  after  sundown. 
He'd  heard  a  black  bear  moving  round — a  black  bear  doesn't 
worry  much  about  the  noise  he  makes — and  when  something 
came  smashing  through  a  thicket  he  loosed  off  at  it.  It  was 
getting  kind  of  dark,  and  when  he  clawed  into  the  thicket 
he  found  he'd  got  the  trooper,  who,  as  the  trail  was  steep 
there,  had  left  his  horse.  Did  what  he  could  to  save  him, 
but  the  man  died,  and  the  Indian  got  scared  that  the  folks 
he  pitched  the  tale  to  wouldn't  believe  him.  That  was  why 
he  dragged  the  trooper  under  a  big  rock  by  the  river  and 


334  DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

put  some  stones  and  branches  on  him.  Somehow  the  horse 
got  away;  from  him,  though  he  fired  at  it.  He  didn't  want 
that  horse  walking  round  making  trouble.  I  gave  him  the 
flour  and  tea,  and  kept  the  trooper's  carbine.'  " 

Slavin  closed  the  book,  and  looked  at  the  men.  "Xow." 
he  said,  "who  would  you  say  killed  that  trooper?" 

"The  Indian,  sure!"  said  somebody,  and  there  was  a 
murmur  of  concurrence  from  the  rest. 

"Well,"  said  Slavin  drily,  "I  believe  he  did.  Anyway, 
no  proceedings  will  be  taken  against  anybody  in  this  valley. 
Tell  the  boys  to  light  out,  Corporal." 

The  miners  went  away  contented.  They  understood,  and 
appreciated,  men  of  Slavin's  kind.  Then  the  latter  turned, 
and  looked  reflectively  at  Leger  and  Ingleby. 

"It's  quite  a  good  thing  you  had  sense  enough  to  keep 
the  boys  off  their  rifles,"  he  said.  "If  there  had  been  any 
shooting,  you  would  have  found  yourselves  unpleasantly 
fixed." 

His  face  was  quietly  grave,  but  there  was  the  faintest 
suggestion  of  a  twinkle  in  Coulthurst's  eyes. 

"I,  at  least,  saw  no  weapons  among  them,"  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  Slavin,  "that  simplifies  the  thing.  Still, 
you  see,  you  can't  go  holding  up  police  outposts  and  heav- 
ing troopers  about  with  impunity.  Where's  the  man  who 
set  you  up  to  it?" 

"I  almost  think  it  was  the  drift  of  circumstances  rather 
than  Mr.  Sewell  that  was  to  blame,"  said  Leger.  "Any- 
way, I  expect  he  is  a  considerable  distance  from  the  valley 
•  by  this  time.  In  fact,  it's  scarcely  likely  that  you  could 
overtake  him,  and  there's  nothing  to  show  which  trail  he 
has  taken." 

It  occurred  to  Ingleby  that  it  was  somewhat  astonishing 
that  such  a  capable  officer  as  Slavin  appeared  to  be  had 
allowed  so  much  time  to  pass  before  he  asked  the  question. 
That,  however,  was  Slavin's  business. 

"Well,"  said  the  latter,  "if  I  had  a  little  more  to  go 


HIS  APPOINTED  STATION  335 

upon,  I  might  make  quite  a  serious  thing  out  of  this.  As 
it  is,  all  I'm  very  sure  about  is  that  you  and  your  partner 
conspired  to  prevent  the  troopers  getting  at  Tomlinson ;  but 
as  Tomlinson  didn't  kill  Probyn,  that  doesn't  count  for  so 
much,  after  all.  Still,  we  have  no  use  for  you  up  here  just 
now,  and  you  have  two  days  in  which  to  clear  out  of  the 
valley.  Tomlinson  will  get  his  ticket,  too,  when  he's  able 
to  take  the  trail." 

"That  would  mean  the  sequestration  of  our  claims,"  said 
Ingleby. 

"Exactly.  You're  not  compelled  to  go.  Stay  right  here 
if  you'd  sooner,  and  take  your  chances  of  any  charge  I  may 
be  able  to  work  up  against  )-ou." 

Ingleby  looked  at  Leger,  who  made  a  little  sign. 

"I  think  we'd  better  go,"  he  said.  "Still,  while  I  have 
no  regret  for  anything  I  have  done,  I  should  like  to  thank 
Major  Coulthurst  for  what  is,  from  his  point  of  view,  a 
clemency  we  scarcely  expected." 

Slavin  smiled  somewhat  drily.  "You  don't  want  to 
make  any  mistake.  The  major  has  done  what  he  considers 
most  advisable — just  that,  and  nothing  else.  Now.  before 
you  light  out  take  a  hint  from  me.  Canada's  quite  a  big 
country,  but  the  law  of  the  Empire  it  belongs  to  is  even  a 
bigger  thing.  You  have  come  off  pretty  well  this  time — 
but  don't  try  it  again." 

Ingleby  made  Coulthurst  a  little  grave  inclination.  "In 
spite  of  Captain  Slavin's  explanation,  I  feel  we  owe  you  a 
good  deal,  sir,"  he  said.  "Still,  I  think  he's  right  in  one 
respect.  We  attempted  too  big  a  thing.  Henceforward 
we'll  go  to  work,  little  by  little,  in  a  different  way.  We 
have  taken  the  wrong  one,  but  the  hope  that  led  us  into  it 
is  just  as  strong  as  ever." 

Coulthurst  smiled  a  little.     ' 

"Long  before  it's  realized  you  and  I  will  be  dead.  If  I 
ever  come  across  you  again  under  different  circumstances 
it  will  be  a  pleasure,"  he  said. 


DELILAH   OF   THE    SNOWS 

Ingleby  turned  and  went  out,  talcing  Leger  with  him, 
but  he  left  the  latter  among  the  pines  and  swung  into  the 
trail  that  led  past  the  Gold  Commissioner's  dwelling.  He 
did  not  know  whether  he  wished  to  see  Grace  or  not,  but,  as 
it  happened,  she  came  out  on  the  veranda  as  he  passed 
and  stopped  him  with  a  little  sign. 

"You  are  going  away,  Walter?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Ingleby.  "In  all  probability  I  shall  never 
come  back." 

The  girl's  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  there  was  a  curious 
strained  look  in  her  eyes. 

"You  seem,"  she  said,  "quite  willing  to  go." 

Ingleby  looked  at  her  gravely.  "It  hurts  me  less  than 
I  expected  it  would  have  done.  Still,  even  if  I  had  been 
permitted,  why  should  I  wish  to  stay?  I  am  poor  again, 
and  it  is  very  likely  shall  always  be  so.  There  are  barriers 
between  you  and  me  which  can  never  be  got  over." 

"You  didn't  believe  that  once." 

"No,"  said  Ingleby.  "Still,  I  am  wiser  now,  and  what 
I  may  have  to  suffer  is  no  more  than  my  desert  for  believing 
that  any  man  is  warranted  in  trying  to  thrust  himself  above 
the  station  he  was  meant  to  occupy.  That,  however,  isn't, 
after  all,  very  much  to  the  purpose." 

"I  suppose,"  and  there  was  a  tremor  in  the  girl's  voice, 
"you  blame  me  for  all  that  has  happened  ?" 

Ingleby 's  eyes  were  still  fixed  upon  her  with  disconcerting 
steadiness.  "It  is  not  my  part  to  reproach  you,  but  I  know 
what  you  did.  You  have  wrecked  the  life  of  my  best  friend, 
and  turned  into  a  traitor  a  man  whose  work  and  word* 
brought  hope  to  thousands.  Sewell  will  never  lift  his  head 
again." 

He  spoke  slowly,  and  a  trifle  hoarsely,  but  there  was  a 
hardness  and  resolution  in  his  voice  which  struck  a  chill 
through  the  girl. 

"What  did  he  tell  you,  Walter?"  she  said. 

"Very  little.    In  fact,  only  that  he  had  told  you  the  way 


HIS  APPOINTED  STATION  337 

to  Westerhouse;  but  that  was  quite  enough.  I  do  not  know 
whether  you  told  him  that  you  loved  hirn  or  not ;  but  it  is 
quite  plain  to  me  that  you  made  him  think  so.  Men  of  his 
kind  do  not  betray  those  who  believe  in  them  without  a 
reason." 

"Walter,"  said  the  girl,  very  softly,  "I  wonder  if — you — 
ever  really  loved  me?" 

Ingleby  winced,  but  there  was  still  no  wavering  in  his 
eyes.  "I  do  not  know,"  he  said.  "You  are  the  most 
beautiful  woman  I  ever  met,  and  I  believed  I  did.  Most 
likely  your  beauty  and  all  that  you  stood  for  dazzled  me, 
and  I  lost  my  head.  It  may  have  been  that — I  do  not 
know — for  if  I  had  really  loved  you  I  should,  perhaps,  have 
forgiven  you  everything." 

"And  that  is  too  much  for  3rou?" 

Ingleby  stood  silent  a  moment.  "If  you  had  loved  me, 
you  would  never  have  betrayed  me.    I  am  afraid  it  is." 

Grace  looked  at  him  steadily,  with  the  colour  in  her 
cheeks,  and  her  voice  was  a  little  tremulous. 

"Perhaps  I  wouldn't — like  you,  I  do  not  know."  Then 
she  held  out  her  hand.  "Don't  think  too  hardly  of  me. 
Good-bye,  Walter." 

Ingleby  touched  her  fingers,  for  he  dared  not  trust  him- 
self further,  and  swinging  his  shapeless  hat  off  abruptly 
turned  away,  while  Grace  stood  very  still  until  the  shadows 
of  the  pines  closed  about  him.  That  was  the  last  she  ever 
.saw  of  him. 

It  was  half  an  hour  later  when  he  walked  quietly  into 
the  bakery,  and  came  upon  Hetty  getting  her  few  belong- 
ings together. 

"I  have  come  back — to  the  people  and  the  place  I  belong 
to.    You  will  not  turn  me  out?"  he  said. 

Hetty's  eyes  shone  softly.  "We  have  been  waiting  for 
you,  Walter — we  knew  you  would  come.  Still,  I'm  not  sure 
you  can  ever  get  quite  back  to  where  you  were  before." 

Ingleby  saw  her  meaning,  for  he  remembered  the  locket; 


338  DELILAH   OF    THE    SNOWS 

and  it  seemed  that  Hetty  knew  what  he  was  thinking,  far 
a  little  colour  crept  into  her  face. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  will  be  patient,  and  try  very  hard." 

Then  he  heard  footsteps,  and,  going  out,  met  Leger  at 
the  door.  The  latter  turned  and  came  down  the  trail  with 
him." 

"We  are  taking  the  trail  to-morrow.  Are  you  coming 
with  us?"  he  said. 

"Of  course!"  said  Ingleby,  looking  at  him  in  blank 
astonishment. 

"In  that  case  there  is  something  to  be  said — and  it  is 
difficult,  but  Hetty  is  my  sister,  after  all.  Do  you  know 
who  gave  her  that  locket?" 

"I  did,"  said  Ingleby,  "a  long  while  ago,  but  I  never 
fancied  that  she  had  kept  it.  Tom,  I  do  not  know  what 
your  sister  thinks  of  me,  but  she  can't  think  more  hardly 
of  me  than  I  do.  Still,  there  may  be  one  or  two  other 
colossal  idiots  of  my  description." 

"It's  quite  likely,"  said  Leger  drily.  "That,  however, 
isn't  very  much  to  the  point,  is  it?" 

Ingleby  stood  silent  a  moment.  "Tom,"  he  said,  "as 
you  found  out,  it's  difficult — and  I  don't  understand  the 
thing  myself.  Perhaps  Miss  Coulthurst  dazzled  me,  and 
I've  been  off  my  balance  ever  since  I  came  into  this  valley, 
but  I  know  now  that  if  I  ever  marry  anybody  it  will  be 
Hetty.  That's  a  very  indifferent  compliment  to  your  sister. 
She  will  probably  be  a  very  long  while  forgiving  me,  but  I 
may,  perhaps,  at  last  persuade  her  to  believe  in  me  again. 
Now,  are  you  going  to  turn  me  away  ?" 

"No,"  said  Leger.  "After  that  I  fancy  we  can  face  to- 
gether what  comes." 

It  was  early  next  morning  when  they  left  the  valley  with 
an  escort  of  twenty  miners  to  help  them  across  the  divide, 
and  Hetty  stood  by  Ingleby's  side  when  they  turned  for  a 
moment  to  look  back  from  among  the  climbing  pines. 


HIS  APPOINTED  STATION  339 

Then,  as  they  turned  again,  Ingleby  met  the  girl's  clear 
eyes. 

"It  may  be  a  long  while,  Hetty,  but  I  think  I  shall  get 
quite  back,  after  all,"  he  said.  "It  was  in  ever  wanting 
to  go  away  that  I  was  horribly  wrong." 


THE  ENS 


A  FEW  OF 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP'S 
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NEW,  CLEVER,  ENTERTAINING. 

GRET :  The  Story  of  a  Pagan.  By  Beatrice  Mantle.  Illustrated 
by  C.  M.  Relyea. 
The  wild  free  life  of  an  Oregon  lumber  camp  furnishes  the  setting  for  this 
strong  original  story.  Gret  is  the  daughter  of  the  camp  and  is  utterly  con- 
tent with  the  wild  life— until  love  comes.  A  fine  book,  unmarred  by  con- 
vention. 

OLD  CHESTER  TALES.  By  Margaret  Deland.  Illustrated 
by  Howard  Pyle. 

A  vivid  yet  delicate  portrayal  of  characters  in  an  old  New  England  town. 

Dr.  Lavendar's  fine,  kindly  wisdom  is  brought  to  bear  upon  the  lives  of 
all,  permeating  the  whole  volume  like  the  pungent  odor  of  pine,  healthful 
and  life  giving.  "  Old  Chester  Tales  "  will  surely  be  among  the  books  that 
abide. 

THE  MEMOIRS  OF  A  BABY.    By  Josephine  Daskam.    Illus- 
trated by  F.  Y.  Cory. 
The  dawning  intelligence  of  the  baby  was  grappled  with  by  its  great  aunt, 
an  elderly  maiden,  whose  book  knowledge  of  babies  was  something  at  which 
even  the  infant  himself  winked.    A  delicious  bit  of  humor. 

REBECCA  MARY.      By  Annie  Hamilton  Donnell.     Illustrated 
by  Elizabeth  Shipp  en  Green. 
The  heart  tragedies  of  this  little  girl  with  no  one  near  to  share  them,  are 
told  with  a  delicate  art,  a  keen  appreciation  of  the  needs  of  the  childish 
heart  and  a  humorous  kno  wledge  or  the  workings  of  the  childish  mind. 

THE  FLY  ON  THE  WHEEL.    By  Katherine  Cecil  Thurston. 

Frontispiece  by  Harrison  Fisher. 
An  Irish  story  of  real  power,  perfect  in  development  and  showing  a  true 
conception  of  the  spirited  Hibernian  character  as  displayed  in  the  tragic  as 
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THE  MAN  FROM  BRODNEY'S.   By  George  BarrMcCutcheon. 
Illustrated  by  Harrison  Fisher. 
An  island  in  the  South  Sea  is  the  setting  for  this  entertaining  tale,  and 
an  all-conquering  hero  and  a  beautiful  princess  figure  in  a  most  complicated 
plot.    One  of  Mr.  McCutcheon's  best  books. 

TOLD  BY  UNCLE  REMUS.  By  Joel  Chandler  Harris.  Illus- 
trated by  A.  B.  Frost,  J.  M.  Conde  and  Frank  Verbeck. 

Again  Uncle  Remus  enters  the  fields  of  childhood,  and  leads  another 
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THE  CLIMBER.    By  E.  F.  Benson.     With  frontispiece. 

An  unsparing  analysis  of  an  ambitious  woman's  soul — a  woman  who 
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LYNCH'S  DAUGHTER.    By  Leonard  Merrick.    Illustrated  by 
Geo.  Brehm. 
A  story  of  to-day,  telling  how  a  rich  girl  acquires  ideals  of  beautiful  and 
simple  living,  and  of  men  and  love,  quite  apart  from  the  teachings  of  her 
father,  "  Old  Man  Lynch  "  of  Wall  St.    True  to  life,  clever  in  treatment. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


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QUINCY    ADAMS    SAWYER.      A  Picture  of  New 
England  Home  Life.    With  illustrations  by  C.  W. 
Reed,  and  Scenes  Reproduced  from  the  Play. 
One  of  the  best  New  England  stories  ever  written.    It  is 
full  of  homely  human  interest  *  *  *  there  is  a  wealth  of  New 
England  village  character,  scenes  and  incidents  *  *  *  forcibly, 
vividly  and  truthfully  drawn.    Few  books  have  enjoyed  a 
greater  sale  and  popularity.    Dramatized,  it  made  the  great- 
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THE    FURTHER    ADVENTURES    OF    QUINCY 
ADAMS   SAWYER.    By   Charles  Felton   Pidgin. 
Illustrated  by  Henry  Roth. 
All  who  love  honest  sentiment,  quaint  and  sunny  humor, 
and  homespun  philosophy  will  find  these  "  Further  Adven- 
tures" a  book  after  their  own  heart. 

HALF  A  CHANCE.     By  Frederic  S.  Isham.     Illus- 
trated by  Herman  Pfeifer. 

The  thrill  of  excitement  will  keep  the  reader  in  a  state  of 
Suspense,  and  he  will  become  personally  concerned  from  the 
start,  as  to  the  central  character,  a  very  real  man  who  suffers, 
dares — and  achieves ! 

VIRGINIA  OF  THE  AIR  LANES.  By  Herbert 
Quick.  Illustrated  by  William  R.  Leigh. 
The  author  has  seized  the  romantic  moment  for  the  airship 
novel,  and  created  the  pretty  story  of  "  a  lover  and  his  lass  " 
contending  with  an  elderly  relative  for  the  monopoly  of  the 
skies.    An  exciting  tale  of  adventure  in  midair. 

THE  GAME  AND  THE  CANDLE.  By  Eleanor  M. 
Ingram.  Illustrated  by  P.  D.  Johnson. 
The  hero  is  a  young  American,  who,  to  save  his  family  from 
poverty,  deliberately  commits  a  felony.  Then  follow  his  cap- 
ture and  Imprisonment,  and  his  rescue  by  a  Russian  Grand 
Duke.    A  stirring  story,  rich  in  sentiment. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


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BRUWER  JIM'S  BABY.     By  Philip  VerrM  Mighels. 

An  uproariously  funny  story  of  a  tiny  mining  settlement  in  the 
West,  which  is  shaken  to  the  very  roots  by  the  sudden  possession 
of  a  baby,  found  on  the  plains  by  one  of  its  residents.  The  town  is 
as  disreputable  a  spot  as  the  gold  fever  was  ever  responsible  for, 
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tradition  of  the  place.  Its  christening,  the  problems  of  its  toys  and 
its  illness  supersede  in  the  minds  of  the  miners  all  thought  of  earthy 
treasure. 

THE  FURNACE  OF  GOLD.  By  Philip  Verrill  Mighels, 
author  of  "  Bruwer  Jim's  Baby."  Illustrations  by  J.  N. 
Marchand. 

An  accurate  and  informing  portrayal  of  scenes,  types,  and  condi- 
tions of  the  mining  districts  in  modern  Nevada. 

The  book  is  an  out-door  story,  clean,  exciting,  exemplifying  no- 
bility and  courage  of  character,  and  bravery,  and  heroism  in  the  sort 
of  men  and  women  we  all  admire  and  wish  to  know. 

THE  MESSAGE.  By  Louis  Tracy.  Illustrations  by  Joseph 
C.  Chase. 
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head from  a  sunken  vessel,  comes  into  the  possession  of  a  pretty 
girl  and  an  army  man  during  regatta  week  in  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
This  is  the  message  and  it  enfolds  a  mystery,  the  development  of 
which  the  reader  will  follow  with  breathless  interest. 

THE  SCARLET  EMPIRE.  By  David  M.  Parry.  Illus- 
trations by  Hermann  C.  Wall. 

A  young  socialist,  weary  of  life,  plunges  into  the  sea  and  awakes 
in  the  lost  island  of  Atlantis,  known  as  the  Scarlet  Empire,  where 
a  social  democracy  is  in  full  operation,  granting  every  man  a  living 
but  limiting  food,  conversation,  education  and  marriage. 

The  hero  passes  through  an  enthralling  love  affair  and  other  ad- 
ventures but  finally  returns  to  his  own  New  York  world. 

THE  THIRD  DEGREE.  By  Charles  Klein  and  Arthur 
Homblow.    Illustrations  by  Clarence  Rowe. 

A  novel  which  exposes  the  abuses  in  this  country  of  the  police 
system. 

The  son  of  an  aristocratic  New  York  family  marries  a  woman 
socially  beneath  him,  but  of  strong,  womanly  qualities  that,  later 
on,  save  the  man  from  the  tragic  consequences  of  a  dissipated  life. 

The  wife  believes  in  his  innocence  and  her  wit  and  good  sense 
help  her  to  win  against  the  tremendous  odds  imposed  by  law. 

THE  THIRTEENTH   DISTRICT.    By  Brand  Whitlock. 

A  realistic  western  story  of  love  and  politics  and  a  searching  study 
of  their  influence  on  character.  The  author  shows  with  extraordi- 
nary vitality  of  treatment  the  tricks,  the  heat,  the  passion,  the  tu- 
mult  of  the  Political  arena  the  triumph  and  strength  of  love. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


A  FEW  OF 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP'S 
Great  Books  at  Little  Prices 

HAPPY  HAWKINS.  By  Robert  Alexander  Wason.  Illus- 
trated  by  Howard  Giles. 
A  ranch  and  cowboy  novel.  Happy  Hawkins  tells  his  own  story 
with  such  a  fine  capacity  for  knowing  how  to  do  it  and  with  so  much 
humor  that  the  reader's  interest  is  held  in  surprise,  then  admiration 
and  at  last  in  positive  affection. 

COMRADES.    By  Thomas  Dixon,  Jr.    Illustrated  by  C.  D. 
Williams. 

The  locale  of  this  story  is  in  California,  where  a  few  socialists 
establish  a  little  community. 

The  author  leads  the  little  band  along  the  path  of  disillusion- 
ment, and  gives  some  brilliant  flashes  of  light  on  one  side  of  an 
important  question. 
TONO-BUNGAY.    By  Herbert  George  Wells. 

The  hero  of  this  novel  is  a  young  man  who,  through  hard  work, 
earns  a  scholarship  and  goes  to  London. 

Written  with  a  frankness  verging  on  Rousseau's,  Mr.  Wells  still 
uses  rare  discrimination  and  the  border  line  of  propriety  is  never 
crossed.    An  entertaining  book  with  both  a  story  and  a  moral,  and 
without  a  dull  page — Mr.  Wells's  most  notable  achievement 
A  HUSBAND  BY  PROXY.    By  Jack  Steele. 

A  young  criminologist,  but  recently  arrived  in  New  York  city, 
is  drawn  into  a  mystery,  partly  through  financial  need  and  partly 
through  his  interest  in  a  beautiful  woman,  who  seems  at  times  the 
simplest  child  and  again  a  perfect  mistress  of  intrigue.  A  baffling 
detective  story. 

LIKE   ANOTHER  HELEN.    By  George  Horton.    Illus- 
trated by  C.  M.  Relyea. 

Mr.  Horton  s  powerful  romance  stands  in  a  new  field  and  brings 
an  almost  unknown  world  in  reality  before  the  reader — the  world 
of  conflict  between  Greek  and  Turk  on  the  Island  of  Crete.  The 
"  Helen  "  of  the  story  is  a  Greek,  beautiful,  desolate,  defiant — pure 
as  snow. 

There  is  a  certain  new  force  about  the  story,  a  kind  of  master- 
craftsmanship  and  mental  dominance  that  holds  the  reader. 
THE    MASTER    OF    APPLEBY.     By    Francis    Lynde. 
Illustrated  by  T.  de  Thulstrup. 

"A  novel  tale  concerning  itself  in  part  with  the  great  struggle  in 
the  two  Carolinas,  but  chiefly  with  the  adventures  therein  of  two 
gentlemen  who  loved  one  and  the  same  lady. 

A  strong,  masculine  and  persuasive  story. 

A  MODERN  MADONNA.    By  Caroline  Abbot  Stanley. 

A  story  of  American  life,  founded  on  facts  as  they  existed  some 
years  ago  in  the  District  of  Columbia.  The  theme  is  the  maternal 
love  and  splendid  courage  of  a  woman. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,  526  West  26th  St.  ,  New  York 


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Los  Angeles 

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